The Highs and Lows
by ObsessedRomantic
Summary: Sequel to The Comic Tragedy, fifth in the Townwood Lane AU. The gang knows that life in Newport is strange, but are they ready for the rollercoaster it becomes when school starts? RT, SS.
1. One

**THE HIGHS AND LOWS **

**Disclaimer: **Why can't I have them? Josh isn't using them anymore…….. Okay, okay. Don't own them or anything to do with The O.C. Not making any money, just working for feedback.

**Summary: **Next in the AU series Townwood Lane. The gang knows life in Newport is strange, but are they ready for the rollercoaster it becomes when school begins? RT, SS.

**A/N: **It's been a while, but I'm back with the cuteness.

--xxx—

Caleb Nichol hated hospitals.

He hated doctors, too. Stupid sons-of-bitches hadn't been able to help his beloved Rose. So what good **were** they?

Of course, he **was** willing to make an exception for that Summer girl's father, if only because he believed that the man might, eventually, become family.

Family.

Family was the entire point of his being here. He'd just gotten his family back, better than before, and it was thanks in no small part to that boy lying in the hospital bed with a red face, holding hands (a trifle defiantly) with his girlfriend.

What a clever little thing she was; tracking down the boy and finding a way to sneak into his room, a way (he was guessing a kiss, by the depth of their mutual blushing) to wake him up. What a determined, clever young lady. She reminded him of no one so much as his dear, dear Kiki, with the craziness of his natural-born grandson to make life really interesting. If she was as much like his daughter as she appeared, his newest grandson had his work cut out for him.

Not that he thought Ryan minded; the kid was pretty far gone, according to Summer.

Now there was** another** clever young lady, one whose forceful nature was the perfect foil for his somewhat lethargic Seth. She seemed more than capable of taking charge, grounding the boy and helping him find a direction for his life. Not to mention: dating that girl just may provide him some protection from the pressure of his peers

''Maybe you should go? Before the medical staff shows up?'' Taylor nodded at him, squeezing her boy's hand farewell before fleeing the room. He raised an eyebrow at the kid on the bed and got a shrug in return. He was shaking his head in amusement when the nurse arrived, doctor in tow.

''Where's his mother?'' Caleb didn't know why his daughter (and the rest of the family) weren't here. They were supposed to have been notified immediately upon his grandson's return to consciousness. If he hadn't been playing a hunch by checking Ryan's room in his attempt to track down the Townsend girl, he wouldn't be here himself. He didn't know what was going on, but he had a feeling this punk in the white coat had something to do with it. Sure enough, the man snapped out a disrespectful answer to his very legitimate question; barely affording him a glance sideways.

''Waiting room, where they belong.'' The ass didn't even warn the kid what he was going to do, he aimed the light right into the blue eyes, making Ryan flinch back with a curse. ''Definitely a concussion, then. Patient evidences sensitivity to light, headache……''

''Not until you did **that**.'' The boy muttered, rubbing at his temple while his grandfather hid a smile. Kid wasn't willing to let anyone push him around, he liked that. The nurse looked sympathetic, but the doctor over-rode anything she might say with a patronizing attitude that set Cal's teeth on edge.

''You should be more co-operative.'' His entire attitude implied that being here was Ryan's fault, not something that this particular teen would argue against. The old man felt his blood boiling, trying to keep a handle on his temper for the sake of the youngster on the bed. ''I know how your kind operates, son. You're not getting any drugs out of me, no matter how good a con you run.'' Okay, that was enough. He may not be the boy's guardian, damnit; but he was still family; and _**no one**_ treated the family of Caleb Nichol like this.

''He is** not** your son.'' He stepped forward, yanking the younger man away from the bed with a firm grip, hearing the startled yelp with dark satisfaction. ''He is, however, **my** grandson; and I will not have him treated by the likes of you.'' He turned to the nurse with his most charming smile, softening his tone to gentle respect. ''You can check him out, can't you, young lady? Until they send down someone more competent than this idiot? I've always had more faith in the nursing profession, anyway.''

'You can't……'' The quack was actually daring to protest. He turned his head, silencing the punk with a glare.

''Get out of this room, **at once**, or I will not only call security, I will lodge an official complaint against this hospital. It'll put a strain on my relationship with my old friend, Bob Norlund'' he had the supreme glee of seeing the weak brown eyes widen in fearful recognition of the name of the hospital's administrator ''but family is more important than a friendship, however close or long-standing.'' Keeping himself from smiling was difficult, watching the scrambling retreat; especially when the idiot tripped over his own feet just before exiting. There was a muffled snicker from the bed, and he definitely saw the nurse swallow a smile.

''Hello, Ryan; my name is Janet.'' The woman smiled, taking the kid's hand. ''It's nice to see you with your eyes open.''

''Hey.'' As much as he was enjoying the blushing, Caleb thought he'd better go get Kiki and the others, or he'd be hearing about his 'insensitive' delay of the good news for the next month.

''Don't worry if he doesn't talk your ear off, Janet.'' He patted the blanket-covered leg, trying to be reassuring. ''That's the other one.'' The woman furrowed her brow at him even as she secured the blood-pressure cuff around the young man's arm. ''His brother, Seth. Whom I should go retrieve, along with the rest of the family.''

''We'll be okay here, then.'' Janet pressed a button on her machine, tightening the cuff; but not before warning her patient that it might hurt. Nice; a fine change from the behavior of the idiot. .

He left the room, confident that the kid was in good hands. It was lucky he'd played his hunch, or the two kids would've been busted breaking that stupid deal; not to mention how that punk of a doctor would've behaved without him there to reign him in. Now he just had to explain to Kiki why he hadn't come running to get her the first** instant** he'd seen the boy was awake.

He wasn't exactly looking forward to it.


	2. Two

**A/N: **I know, short chapters. Just means there'll be more of them, right? At least this'll make the character shifts and time jumps easier to follow. And, hey; at least I'm finally working on it, right?

Now if I can just keep from writing that songfic hovering in the back of my brain.

Bad muse, bad!

--xxx—

He never thought he'd be thankful for Caleb Nichol.

Ryan never thought he'd be thankful for anyone, really; but, if he had to, he would've bet on the Cohens before he considered the old man. He just wasn't used to people changing, not for the better. After their disastrous first encounters, there should've been a rising dislike and contempt, followed by abuse; both verbal and physical. The way things were supposed to go, his guardians should've come to the eventual (inevitable) conclusion that he was just too much trouble and dumped him back into the system.

Instead, he'd been sitting there letting the nurse examine him (how could it be flirting, like Seth claimed, if he hadn't even been talking?) when Kirsten had rushed in and hugged him. She'd squeezed him with obvious relief, arms tight around his shoulders. It had been more surprise than anything else that made him grunt; but try convincing her of that. If her father hadn't calmed her down, he would've been doped to the gills on pain-killers in the next five minutes.

The second doctor was much better than the first (something else he had to thank the older man for), he even cracked a joke or two about hard heads. Sandy hadn't thought it was any damn funny, oddly enough. It wasn't until he saw the fear in his guardian's eyes that he realized **why** the guy was reacting so poorly to a little humor. Again, Cal came to his rescue, encouraging Doctor Ross to give a detailed accounting of how well he was doing.

The adults shifted their conversation to the hallway, leaving an eerily silent Seth to sit on the edge of his bed. Ryan eyed the kid with concern, wondering if the other was mad at him or something. Or maybe something had gone wrong with Summer? There had to be **some** reason why his brother wasn't chattering away like some demented monkey.

''So I'm sorry you cut Comicon short.'' He got a brown gaze of rampant disbelief, that only got deeper when he tried to continue his apology. ''You didn't have to come back, you and the girls………''

''Are you kidding me?'' Seth didn't shout, but his mother did send him a stern look, causing the next words to be at a slightly lower volume. ''You honestly think I **care** about any of that? No** way** would I stay away when my best friend, my brother, is lying in a hospital. Not even for Summer would I do that.'' He had to duck his eyes away from the sincerity before him, the honesty of those statements. He couldn't help but remember how Trey, his 'real' brother, had reacted when he'd been hospitalized after one of Dawn's boyfriends had caught him with some random girl (who turned out to be the man's daughter) in his room. The older Atwood had briefly stopped by (the only visitor he'd had) to tell him that he wouldn't be there when Ryan got home, that he'd moved in with his girlfriend. That arrangement hadn't lasted, but it had still hurt to know he wasn't valued by anyone, even his family.

Unlike the Cohens, who were showing signs of having been here for_** hours**_.

''Thanks.'' It felt inadequate, but he wasn't as experienced as they were at expressing this kind of thing. Time to change the subject. ''So, how was it?''

''Awesome.'' The smile wasn't as blinding as he expected, something must've happened. Maybe Summer had seen the horde of geeks and bailed? He gave his friend a doubtful look. ''No, really. Summer found some manga she liked. I know, weird, huh? I could hardly believe it myself. Teen drama is teen drama, though; so her liking the Jeshonin is hardly a stretch. It's kind of like a Japanese version of The Valley, just with cute little animals and aliens mixed in.'' He shuddered and Ryan had to duck his head to hide the grin. ''I hope she doesn't have those plush monstrosities set up in her bedroom, it could seriously cramp my style.''

''What style?'' He delivered the expected line, wishing he knew the shape of what the other was keeping from him. Nothing to do with Summer, but………..** No**. It couldn't be Taylor. Taylor was _**fine**_. She'd looked fine, anyway; when she'd stopped in to wake him with that kiss. A kiss she **never** would've given him if something was going on. Now that the idea was in his head, though; he couldn't shake it. ''What about Taylor?'' Damn, now the guy was avoiding his eyes. Not good. ''Seth…….''

''She's okay. She was a little worried about you.'' The other boy looked around the room, frowning. ''In fact, I'm surprised she's not in here, fluffing your pillows or pouring you some water or…….'' That his friend was trying to distract him was obvious, he felt his nerves start to clench. Could it seriously be that bad?

''Seth.'' He didn't need the run-around, he needed the facts. The only thing he could think of was that Veronica had shown up at the convention and done something mean-spirited. Maybe she was transferring her daughter to that boarding school, despite their bargain. If that was the case, he was going to take Cal up on that offer to 'deal' with the woman. ''Tell me.''

''There was this guy at the con.'' What? Ryan frowned, trying to remember if there had been any bruises on her porcelain skin. As far as he could recall, she hadn't had a hair out of place, showed no signs (visible, at least) of having been assaulted. He'd track that guy down, if he had to; teach him some manners, Chino-style. Wait, that couldn't be it. Taylor had a black belt, she would've kicked ass. ''He was seriously macking on her, man; coming on pretty strong, even though me and Summer **told** him she has a boyfriend.'' The relief that flooded him was exhausting, he slumped back into his pillows with a sigh and a smile. Girl probably hadn't even noticed, he thought happily. She would've unleashed a Townsend-style verbal smack-down, if she had.

''You had me worried. We're ever going to see him again, so…….'' His brother's abstracted picking at the blanket interrupted him, erasing the smile from his face, his nerves tightening at the absence of a reassuring nod. Uh-oh. ''What?''

''He goes to Harbor.'' A sick feeling pulled at his gut, he closed his eyes and swallowed.

Terrific.

He was about to apply to a school whose teachers probably thought he was cheating, to get such high scores on his testing. In a town where the adult population would prefer he be tossed back into Juvie and the key thrown away. Not to mention that the majority of the student body already had it in for him, so his welcome (should he make it into their school) was going to be hot enough to qualify as volcanic. **Now** he had to face the possibility of having to attend class with some Newport jerk who would be trying to take Taylor from him. And those scenarios weren't even the worst of it.

What if she decided that he wasn't good enough for her? What if she choose someone who had more in common with her, who was interested in the same high-class things? Someone who didn't have to be taught what a waltz was, or be reminded to use the different forks for dinner? Someone who wouldn't be imagining her naked every night, inspiring some fairly dirty dreams? Some guy who spoke French, who spoke at **all**, (or at least more often than he did), who said the right things and wore the right clothes?

"See, this is why I didn't want to tell you.'' Seth was saying, he opened his eyes to meet his friend's concerned gaze. ''She didn't so much as smile at him, dude; not any more than she does at any passing stranger, anyway. Taylor's not gonna choose that guy over you, trust me, she's…….''

''Maybe she should.'' Ryan picked at the stupid gown, not daring to look up. ''Maybe she should be with someone better.'' A disbelieving snort alerted him to the return of the adults; Kiki's face sympathetic, while the two men had matching expressions of amusement.

''Kid, she can't **do** any better.'' Sandy declared, coming around the bed to clap him on the shoulder supportively. ''She's a smart girl, she knows a good thing when she has it.''

''Much as I hate to agree with the Sandman; he's right in this case. She'd be a fool to part your company now, and that girl's no fool.'' Cal crossed his arms across his chest, the expression on his face reminding the younger man of the look Theresa's mom had gotten, when his SAT-one scores had come in. His foster father muttered something about that Streisand movie he and Seth had been forced to watch (as punishment for what had happened to the rug and the vase): Yentl? He didn't get the relevance.

''He might be one of those guys who calls her 'Dorksend', so no way she goes for that.'' The doubtful tone in the other boy's voice wasn't very reassuring, he turned worried blue eyes to the only woman in the room.

''Taylor has a strong attachment to you, sweetie; you don't have anything to worry about.'' He nodded, trying to appear convinced by their kind words.

Because he'd just thought of something to worry about, something that had nothing to do with Taylor's behavior, or her likely choices.

If Veronica found out about this guy, his chances of _ever_ having her daughter as his would be like facing a straight flush; **royal** flush if the bastard found a way into the witch's good graces.

His only hope was the aces-high king up his sleeve.

His 'grandfather': Caleb Nichol.


	3. Three

**A/N: **To those who might say ' but Zach's a nice guy', I quote from cannon:

'I'm a water polo player, we're never nice.'

'Nough said.

--xxx—

''Mother?'' Taylor entered the house carefully, tucking her change from the cab ride into her purse. She hoped Ryan would forgive her for not staying at the hospital with him, but she didn't want to risk getting caught again. It was only the blindest luck that Mr. Nic……**Cal** had been the one to catch her wearing that candy-striper outfit. If it had been anyone else, she'd be on her way to Holy Oaks (or possibly jail) right this minute. ''Mother, I'm home from Comicon early.'' The door hadn't been locked, and there was an unfamiliar car in the driveway. Maybe her mother was in with a client?

''In here, Taylor.'' Definitely a client, then. Her mother only adopted that kind and gentle tone of voice when she was playing the 'loving parent' for someone she was either sucking up **to** or sucking money** from**. So she was taken a little aback when she came into the den and found her mother sharing cookies (where had **those** come from?) and iced tea with ………..whatever-his-name-was from the convention. ''Zach and I were just getting to know each other.'' Zach, that was it. Zach……..something with an 'S', she thought.

''Hello.'' She couldn't figure what he was doing here, until she saw the luggage at the near end of the sofa. Her cheeks heated, she fiddled with the strap of her purse. ''Wasn't the hotel going to take care of that?'' Why hadn't he left her things to be delivered? Why go to the trouble of tracking her down? It was, honestly?; a bit creepy.

''Taylor, don't be rude.''** That** was more familiar; the chiding and slightly critical tone of her mother's voice. What **wasn't** familiar was the smile on the woman's face, the approving gleam in her eyes. ''It was very considerate of him to bring your belongings home. You should thank him.''

''Thank you.'' She recited the words automatically, being more concerned with what was going on. Her mother was acting very strange and what, in the name of all gods, was this boy **doing** here? She was confused, and tired, and had a tiny bit of a headache from stressing over Ryan.

''You're welcome. I was happy to help.'' Zach smiled at her, looking like he expected her to be impressed. So he'd brought her luggage to her, so what? What was he……..? Oh my God, she thought to herself. I don't believe………he can't be……… Taylor took a closer look at his expression and fought against a massive, irritated sigh.

He **was**. He was checking her out.

Well, wasn't this just **perfect.** This was all she needed, she didn't know if she could handle this, right now; especially with her mother acting so………strange.

''Why don't I leave the two of you to get re-acquainted, then?'' The woman actually smiled at her, patting her shoulder in a friendly fashion as she went by. The surreality of the situation was dizzying. Taylor pressed fingers to her forehead, waiting for Veronica to leave the room before speaking, wishing she didn't have a (steadily increasing) headache.

''I appreciate your bringing my things home; but this isn't going anywhere.'' It was a struggle to keep her tone civil; but it was hardly his fault her mother was such a manipulative…… Anyway, there was no reason to take it out on him.

''I don't expect anything from this.'' She dropped her hand, piercing the boy with her best hazel imitation of Veronica's cold gray gaze.

''No? So you preformed this courtesy for Seth and Summer as well?'' She saw that he hadn't, it was written all over his face. He inclined his head at her in acknowledgement of his (failed) attempt at chivalry, smiling like he expected her to think it was cute. Crossing her arms over her chest, she sighed; shaking her head gently 'no'. ''I mean it. It's not going to happen.''

''That Ryan guy?"' Seth had been right. The way he referred to her boyfriend was **very** annoying. Almost as annoying as his attitude of disbelief and assumption of superiority. ''What could a classy girl like you ever find to like about a kid like that?''

''His name's Ryan, mine's Taylor; and the 'R' and the 'T' are right next to each other on the keyboard.'' It was the most insane thing she could think of, and she delivered it with a straight face and utter sincerity of tone. She had the satisfaction of seeing doubt enter the taller (much taller, she was getting a crick in her neck to go with her headache) boy's eyes.

''You're not serious.'' He didn't sound sure, though, and she allowed herself an internal smile. Ryan would've laughed, she thought, comparing the two boys. He would've laughed and called her 'crazy' with that affectionate look in his deep blue eyes. Maybe he'd even stroke his thumb over her knuckles, kiss her…….

Stop that, she scolded herself. You're _dumping_ this poor boy, the least you can do is give the matter your full attention.

''You don't know that.'' She decided to explain herself, a little. No reason to draw this out or give him the idea he had any chance, any hope. It wasn't** his** fault Veronica thought that Taylor was as fickle as her mother. The girl just wished she could call Summer for advice, as she had no experience at 'letting a boy down easy'. Most of her experience with boys, in fact, was extremely specific (Ryan, with his hair all mussed by the wind – stop it). ''Zach, I'm sure you're a very nice person; you're just not** my** nice person.'' His jaw set stubbornly and she decided to try a better explanation. ''I'm trying to save you some time and effort here. If I give you a list of his positive attributes, you might try and convince me either that **you** possess them as well, or that he doesn't **actually** possess them. If I say negative things about you; not only would it be rude, but you might make yourself miserable trying to 'change' for me.''

''So, you're doing me a favor.'' Zach was still looking doubtful, but at least he also appeared to be thinking. Taking it as a sign he was re-considering pursuing her; she decided to try and end the encounter on a friendlier note.

''In return for the favor you did me.'' Taylor waved a hand at her luggage, smiling her best plastic (falsely civil) smile. He looked at her for so long, with such depth of contemplation; that she began to fear he was mis-interpreting her expression and instantly stopped smiling.

''Just tell me one of each.'' Huh?

''Each……'' Each what? What could he…..?

''One good thing about him, one bad thing about me.'' Oh. But she didn't want to do that. Much as she didn't want to date the guy, she didn't want to be mean to him either.

''Zach…..'' This was why she hadn't tried to date before Ryan, she decided. People ended up hurt.

''Truthfully, I'd rather hear something **negative** about him, but I doubt you want to give your eavesdropping mother the ammunition.'' She changed her mind (about him being a jerk, anyway) in that one moment; when he showed (by his whispered words) he hadn't been as taken in by her mother's pretense as she'd thought. Then she changed it back when he spoke again. ''You can't think of one thing you like about him?''

''Let's do you, first.'' She let her eyes travel up and down in that same disdainful manner her mother often subjected her too. He stiffened immediately, the reaction enough of a revenge for his earlier attitude, so she didn't throw in the traditional finishing (ego-shattering) smirk. ''You're too tall.'' It was the least offensive thing she could think of to say, something he wouldn't be hurt by. She rubbed her neck, looking away from him, and he laughed, nodding his acceptance. ''Ryan……I….'' What could she say that her mother wouldn't find some way to twist around? What could she say to another boy without humiliating them both? ''We're the same kind of people.''

''You are.'' His voice was vast in it's doubt, his utter disbelief. She shrugged, not really caring if she convinced him or not.

''Inside. We're the same kind of people: inside.'' She looked at him with true sympathy, hoping he wouldn't be too crushed by this. ''Goodbye, Zach. It was nice to have you drop by.'' What were the signs, if he were devastated? She didn't know. She didn't know it he was unfazed by this or just really, really good at covering up.

It was fortunate that she had good news to spread about Ryan re-gaining consciousness.

She **really** needed to talk to Summer.


	4. Four

**A/N: **So I wasn't as mean to Zach as I thought I was going to be. Guess I'm not as evil as I once was, because here's some more niceness: this time with Luke.

--xxx--

''Hey, Mrs. Cohen.'' Luke was nervous. He'd never made so many apologies in his life as he had the past couple of months. He wasn't getting any better at it, but he had to try again, at least one more time; because** this** apology was the most important one he'd make in his entire life.

Provided he was given the opportunity to make it.

''Luke. Carson.'' From her expression, he was guessing that his father's presence was the only reason the door wasn't being slammed in his face.

''Could I see Atw……Ryan?'' He saw her son moving around behind her, blatantly eavesdropping, and felt even worse. Not only had he almost killed a guy who'd never done him any **real** harm; but he'd also almost deprived Cohen of the only friend he'd ever had.

''I don't think…..'' He hated to be pushy and interrupt her, but the longer this was put off, the more awkward it was going to be. And it was already awkward enough to make him regret eating anything for breakfast.

''I know no apology is gonna make up for what I did, but I still want to tell him and…..'' Luke looked at his sneakers, shuffling his feet. Somehow, this confession was even worse than the last one. The adrenaline surge of the stress over whether Ryan was gonna make it or not had had a tongue-loosening effect that was absent today. His father nudged him gently in the back and he risked a glance towards the woman. ''Well, you remember his bike?''

'"What do you mean: 'remember his bike'?'' Cohen was there, in the doorway, not looking guilty at all for so blatantly listening in. ''What, you thought cracking his head open wasn't enough? You trashed his…..''

''He ran it over with his truck.'' She looked as guilty as he felt, telling the other boy about the incident. ''When we followed the ambulance. I guess we were too distracted to…….''

''Me.** I** was too distracted.'' Luke wanted to be clear: he was taking the responsibility for this. ''I was the one driving, it was **my** fault.'' Upon mention of his driving, her gaze lifted over his shoulder, her brow furrowing when she saw his father's vehicle in the driveway and not his.

''Luke, where's your……''

''His driving privileges have been revoked.'' His dad placed a hand on his shoulder. His parents were pissed at him, more pissed than they'd been about the fire, even; but they still loved him. Knowing that the guy he'd put in the hospital had most likely never had such reassurance made him feel even guiltier; this time just for having a better life, a better family, then the other. He would've asked the other teen how he dealt with it, if the scrawny brunette didn't look so (justifiably) ticked. ''He'll be lucky if he's allowed back behind the wheel before graduation.'' Mrs. Cohen looked sympathetic, but her son's satisfied expression seemed to Luke to be more honest, and no less than he deserved. ''We're also here to let Ryan know he still has a job. Part-time, of course; if that's still okay with you, Kirsten.''

''Won't you come in?'' Finally, she stepped back, allowing the Ward men entrance. Cohen gave him a severely hostile look before leaving the room, probably to warn Atwood that he was here. ''Why don't we talk while the boys work things out?''

''That sounds fine.'' His dad gave him a pointed look and he shuffled his feet, nodding. He knew what that look meant. It was a reminder that he was to at least make an attempt at amends if he wanted to avoid a repeat of this trip later in the week. ''I hope Sandy's here? I have some information you both should……..''

The pool house seemed to loom over him as Luke approached. It felt like it was miles away but, before he was anywhere close to ready, the shade-drawn glass doors were suddenly within arm's reach. C'mon, Ward, he coached himself; nut up! He heard voices, but they weren't raised; which could be either a good or bad sign. Good, in that neither boy was too upset or bad, in that Ryan's condition was too delicate for the stress of loud noises. He knocked, taking a deep, bracing breath.

''Luke.'' Seth's voice was barely civil, he stepped aside with obvious reluctance and a steady glare. There were comics scattered around, a Game boy with several game disks piled next to it at the foot of the bed.

''Hey, Luke.'' The kid on the bed actually sounded glad to see him, shifting like he was going to stand up. A slight noise from behind his visitor froze him, leaving him to relax back into his nest of pillows with an embarrassed grimace and a shrug. ''The Cohens are taking the doctor's warnings a little** too** seriously.''

''Right. Because head injuries are such mild ailments.'' Cohen spoke with heavy sarcasm, dropping into the room's only chair; leaving Luke no choice but to remain standing. Well, he supposed he could sit on the bed; but, with Ryan lying there all pale in what looked like pajamas, he didn't think that was really an option. ''You need to be careful, if only to keep Mom out of orbit. Watch out for headaches, spotty vision, trouble sleeping, ……..''

''I know.'' The guy's patience was apparently at a limit. He imagined what it would be like to have all three family members fussing at him (having Kirsten do it, at the hospital, had been unnerving enough) and was instantly sympathetic. He was amazed the other boy hadn't run screaming from the house, yet. No wonder he was so welcome, it was probably the only respite the other'd had since coming home. ''This isn't the first time I've been at risk for a concussion, Seth.'' As sharp at his tone was, that he regretted saying anything was readily apparent. He was glad, now, that he'd come. It was the perfect opening for what he had to say.

Not to mention, the other two would definitely appreciate the subject change.

''I'm sorry.'' Two sets of eyes that had been roaming the room uncomfortably focused on him, and he forced himself to meet the deeper blue squarely. ''I'm sorry I hit you. **All** the times I hit you. **Both** of you.'' He spared a brief glance towards Seth, who was motioning him to go on, picking up the Game Boy and pretending to ignore the other two. Well, it wasn't privacy, but it was a fairly decent imitation. Luke shifted attention back to the main purpose to his being here. ''I'm sorry I didn't give you a chance to explain, that I let my temper get away with me, that I let Marissa tweak my head like she did.''

''Girls.'' Ryan shrugged, smiling, and he knew he'd been forgiven for being weak where the Cooper girl was concerned. Guys like the two of them (three, actually, given **who** the third was dating) understood how a girl could end up the entire focus of their existence, utterly controlling their lives.

''I'm sorry about the bike, too.'' Confusion appeared, brow furrowing as the other blonde glanced at his brother. ''I ran it over with my truck when I backed out to drive Kirsten to the hospital.''

''Oh.'' Another shrug, this one accepting and resigned instead of teasingly understanding. He didn't seem to care about it, any more than he cared about the bruises on his face or the fact he'd been put in the hospital. The reasons behind that calm ease were enough to sour Luke's stomach; something he would bet he had in common with Cohen.

''I'm sorry, and……'' He was interrupted, Ryan seeming to be tired of hearing apologies.

''It's cool, okay?' Yeah, that was a tone that said 'so quit apologizing already'. Unfortunately, or fortunately, really; he hadn't just been trying to apologize.

''So, when did you want to go shopping for a new one?'' Just as he thought, the offer got both the other boy's instant attention.

''You **have** been whining about getting out of the house. We could go now, maybe drop by and see Taylor? A shopping trip is public '' He frowned at Cohen's reminder of Atwood's deal with Veronica Townsend, as did the man himself. And he thought** his **life was screwed up.

''I don't need a bike.'' There was a stubborn set to the guy's jaw, what was that all about?

''Don't be ridonkulous, man. The 'rents would totally be into springing for a new one. The Kirsten **loves** to shop, you know; and……''

''Yeah, only** they** wouldn't be paying for it.'' Again, he was the focus of two confused stares. ''I would. Out of my allowance.'' The other blonde boy was shaking his head, so he stepped forward twitching his hands and wishing, for the first time in his life, that he was Seth Cohen; so he would at least have **some** idea of what to say. ''Come on, Atwood. We all know this whole mess was my fault. Let me make at least **some** of it right.''

''I don't……….'' There was that stubborn look again, and he tried desperately to think of something, **any**thing, to get Ryan to agree to his offer of restitution. The frustrated look on the brunette's face told him this wasn't the first time the kid from Chino had been resistant to someone spending money on him. He interrupted before the offer could be flat-out refused, hoping that his coming clean about his situation would inspire some way (for him or Cohen) to convince the guy to get his bike replaced.

''Dad's making me go to anger management, took away my truck, and I'm grounded, aside from school, until after _**New Year's**_. If I can show remorse by getting you a new bike, I might get leniency enough to be able to go to Homecoming.'' Well, that was weird. Until he'd mentioned the leniency, all the face before him had been was stubborn and a little surprised. Ryan apparently wouldn't agree to the purchase for **himself,** but tell him someone **else** benefitted from it, and he was all for it.

Boy, had that guy's parents fucked him up in the head.

''Okay, but nothing fancy.'' That was a warning, the look that accompanied those words. He felt the generosity of the gesture slipping away from him. ''We can hit the yard sales, second-hand…….'' What was** with** this guy? Why didn't he want a nice, new bike that ……. Unless……. Maybe having another boy buy him something made him uncomfortable? He had to avoid being tricked into giving him a piece of crap, though. What…….?

Oh, yeah; he was _brilliant_; no matter what Cohen (or his Dad, after the 'incident') said.

''Or I could just give you mine.'' That stopped the planned outing to Newport's less economically stable areas. Seth looked a little disappointed, truthfully. Tough. He'd have to tour 'the mean streets' some other time. ''It's barely touched. My folks got it for me just before I got my license. It's kind of off-road; more of a racing bike than a dirt bike, though. I haven't really used it since I got the truck. They would've given it to my brothers, but since they're twins, they went with the matching set of skate-boards.'' The more he thought about it, the more he liked this idea. It would keep him from spending money on Atwood (which concept was starting to feel a little gay) and be a much more convincing argument for how **really** sorry he was. Not that he wasn't actually that sorry, but this would be proof.

And it might just be the first step at The Three Amigos making a comeback.

''How will you get to school?'' Man, this guy really took the cake when it came to concern for others. He and the Cohens were a good fit, what with the way they looked out for anyone (him, Summer, Taylor, even Marissa) who ended up drawing their attention.

''Mom doesn't work, she can give me a lift to and from. Or I can run it, get in shape for the season. Sports being the only extra-curricular I'm allowed, that'd be a good cardio.'' Luke smiled, realizing suddenly just how to handle this. He must not be as smart as he'd thought, or he'd've thought of it before. ''The bike's yours. I'll have Dad drop it off later tonight or early tomorrow.'' And that would be that, he knew. No **way** would Atwood argue with an adult (who wasn't in the wrong) especially one who happened to be his boss.

That, and the idea of Luke walking to school obviously appealed to Cohen. The kid was grinning from ear to ear at the thought of him having to 'hoof it' to school every day. He really didn't care about that. After years of harassment at his hands, the guy deserved to get some of his own back. The guy also, apparently, didn't hold a grudge; because he suggested they all get in some 'virtual macho-bonding'. Virtual, he went on to explain; because the violence would all be pixilated on the screen of the television, courtesy of Play Station.

Ryan, he declared, would be relegated to referee because of his 'condition'.

One of the many pillows tucked around the pale teen soared through the air, just missing the brunette's head. Cohen squawked (something about a 'jewfro'?) and the tension in the room evaporated. Luke sat on the floor near the bed, snagging a comic and asking what he'd missed in the anime and manga while he'd been 'on the dark side'. Seth brought him enthusiastically up to speed, the guy's brother giving him a look that conveyed the opinion that he'd asked for it.

Didn't matter. He liked it.

It was evidence that his fences, if not mended, were at least scheduled for maintenance.


	5. Five

**A/N: **Scrambled a scene from cannon. Enjoy!

--xxx—

Kirsten didn't believe in losing her temper.

The longer she sat there, though; listening to the Dean of Students ramble on and on about Ryan's bad points (acting as if he weren't even in the room), the more sorely that belief was tested. She was getting increasingly irritated with the other woman's attitude. If Doctor Kim had already made up her mind, then what were they even doing here? What was this interview about, if not to ascertain whether or not he'd be admitted?

And what, come to think of it, had that 'always interesting' comment meant?

''…..weak grades, truancy, some notations regarding criminal activity…..'' Bitch, she thought, scolding herself mentally for the foul language. She'd had about enough of this.

''It was a misdemeanor. Probation.'' Kirsten kept her tone gentle, but allowed a note of chastisement to enter in. Everyone in this room knew about his history, so there was no need to go over and over it as the woman seemed determined to do. This interview was supposed to be about his **future**, not his **past**. Somehow, she had to make that clear.

''Nonetheless.'' Sanctimonious witch. ''Not exactly Harbor school material.'' She literally saw red for an instant, narrowing her gaze at the other woman. ''I'm also concerned that his background might increase the difficulties he'd have with the rigors of our curriculum.''

''My background?'' Ryan sounded like he was about to explode. She sympathized, but they couldn't let the situation get out of hand. This side of the table had to remain calm and composed, no matter what provocation came from across the varnished wood.

''My husband and I believe that Ryan would have no difficulty at **all** with the curriculum. In **fact**, we expect him to excel.'' She ignored the shocked glance from the boy to her right, keeping her eyes locked with Doctor Kim. There'd be time enough to deal with his lack of self-confidence later. Right now, she had a deal to close. ''Or is your concern about the pressure from parents who don't want him here?''

''That's not a _decisive_ concern.'' The woman had the good grace to avoid her gaze, at least. ''But it **is** a concern. They are very unsettled '' She opened one of the folders, revealing several pictures. ''especially in light of recent events.''

Kirsten felt a rage that had nothing to do with the obstinance of the school official facing them. She heard her new son mutter something under his breath she was just as glad was inaudible. It wouldn't look good to have to scold him for his language while trying to convince the dean he wasn't a hoodlum. In the photos, he and Marissa Cooper looked as if they were engaged in a heavy make-out session; one that appeared to turn ugly: the later pictures with Ryan on top, his face set in tight, severe lines. He reached out with one hand, spreading more of the laminated papers across the table. Glancing over, she was startled to see a smirk of satisfaction tugging at his lips.

''Veronica.'' Kirsten felt even angrier, realizing how these photos had come into existence. Her irritation with the school official paled in light of the things she wanted to subject the Townsend woman to. ''Her next move.'' How could he sound so pleased? This was horrible, revealing a level of manipulative arrogance she could barely comprehend, let alone find enjoyable.

Unless he thought that his girl's mother had slipped up, somehow? Yes, that had to be it. He was right, too. She'd have to remember to ask for copies, when they were done here. It wouldn't do any good to confront Veronica without the material to back them up.

''I got them anonymously, actually. However: such an accusation, against a member of the school board; only further proves my point about this not being a good fit for you.'' Doctor Kim was glancing back and forth between them, frowning when the boy sat back, arms crossed over his chest, smirk still in place. ''Students at Harbor are bright and motivated..……''

''When they're not snorting coke, drinking themselves unconscious, smoking weed, or screwing each other blind.'' She had to hide a smile at his sarcastic interruption; having heard about the true events of the fashion show's after-party from Seth. In more detail than she'd wanted, but at least the record was now set straight.

''Young man…..'' The other woman didn't seem as amused. She sounded, in actuality, a trifle pissed. Good, the blonde woman thought. No less than she deserves, criticizing my boys (she'd figured out the 'interesting' comment, and she wasn't pleased about it). Not that winding her up was going to win the day, here. Sighing internally, she decided to try again, cutting across whatever scolding Ryan was about to receive.

''He's got a point, Doctor Kim.'' Kirsten leaned forward, portraying earnest sincerity and worried parenting. ''I've had some experience with the immoral behavior of certain of the student body. Alcohol abuse, bullying, drug use; I won't bore you with Seth's eye-witness accounts.'' The woman was avoiding her gaze again, not as ignorant of the true nature of her students as she appeared. One finger tapped on the photos as she continued. ''Marissa Cooper may be social chair, but she's also a spoiled brat with a mean streak a mile wide when she doesn't get her way. Or have you forgotten the reason Taylor withdrew from competition for the role?'' Her son was no longer looking amused. He looked, in fact, like he was about to demand details. If his girlfriend hadn't told him about the months she spent with neon-pink hair, though;** she** wasn't about to. Some things, a couple just had to work out for themselves. Back to the debate: ''I don't think that's what the other parents are worried about, though.''

''You're saying he's not violent. That these pictures, his record, his past; aren't subject to my consideration.''

''Not decisively.'' Again, she had to smother the urge to smile. He was really quite entertaining, when he decided to speak. Ryan seemed to sense that the woman across the table wasn't as amused as she was. He leaned forward with his hands clasped together in (unconscious?) supplication. ''I can't change where I'm from. I can only change where I'm going.'' Doctor Kim looked (finally!) impressed; until her eyes dropped back to the pictures. Off the woman's frown ''This is my girlfriend's mother's latest move to break us up.''

''I thought you accused Veronica Townsend of taking these.''

''I did.'' Realization dawned (and it was about time) across the table. ''I'm seeing Taylor.'' There was a flicker of blinding light that crossed his face as he spoke the name, he ducked his head to hide his eyes, trying to keeping the blatant joy to himself. She cleared her throat, drawing attention away from his hidden (slightly dazzled) expression.

''I'd like to have a few of these.'' Kirsten declared more than requested. There was no **way** this was 'keeping the deal', her father could use this as ammunition to gain more freedoms for that poor girl. ''Explain to Taylor what really happened before she gets Veronica's or Marissa's version.'' Possibly even revisit the 'deal' in its entirety.

''Of course.'' The other woman seemed to still be a little confused. With a shake of her head, she re-focused on the original debate. ''Mister Atwood, you have extraordinary potential; no one's denying that. And I definitely responded to your personal essay. Your grades may be borderline, but your scoring on the SAT ones and the placement exam were impressive.'' She shifted, obviously uncomfortable (as she should be) with what she said next. ''I'm just not sure you understand the full consequences. A failure here could mean not only loss of a year, but of self-confidence. Newport Union is a good school, even if it doesn't have Miss Townsend in attendance.'' Oh, how **dare **she? How _**dare**_ she imply his only interest in Harbor was his girlfriend?

''With all due respect, if you think rejecting me is gonna inspire self-confidence…..'' She could've cheered, and had the supreme satisfaction of seeing the woman flinch at his pointed words. Really, Ryan was turning out to be quite eloquent, when he was motivated to speak. He's probably even better when writing, she thought to herself, and was possessed by a sudden urge to read his essay. Too bad it was part of his confidential school file now. She'd have to wait for his first composition assignment, then. Between his (somewhat startling, she admitted it) verbal skills and her influence in the community, he was absolutely getting into Harbor. He didn't seem to share her confidence, because he leaned forward again, pleading in every line of him, hands trembling in his obvious nervousness. ''Gimme a shot.'' Tears pricked at the desperate longing in his tone, she had to look away from the raw hunger on his face.

''Test him.'' Kirsten blurted it out, uncomfortable with the silence that had begun to build. It was an uncomfortable quiet, and it made her angry all over again at the unfairness of a world that would deny this bright, mature (sometimes too mature) boy a future just because he was willing to fight for it instead of taking it (as most of Harbor's students did) for granted. The idea of a test was sound, and nothing the dean could deny them without admitting to her own prejudices and preconceptions. Not something that would be good for public relations. ''You'll get a better idea of his abilities, as well as a defense for those who'll accuse you of yielding to pressure from Caleb Nichol and his family.'' And when he passes the thing with flying colors, I'll have the satisfaction of watching you eat your patronizing words; she thought.

''That's a good idea. Not an aptitude test; a measure of Ryan's preparedness.'' Just as she was about to become irritated with the return to pretending her son was invisible, Doctor Kim shifted her gaze to him. ''**What** you've learned, not how bright you are.'' There was challenge in the woman's tone, the firm posture. Her son sat up straighter in response; meeting the hard stare with a calm and ready one of his own. She thought she was proud of him at that moment; but she became even prouder (which she hadn't thought possible) when he said quietly, steadily:

''Just tell me when and where.''


	6. Six

**A/N: ** Hope this one goes over well. Not a pair we see a lot of interaction from in cannon, so I hope it works.

Also, belated thanks to Book for her keyboard thing (see 4th chapter) and kudos to my Mom, for the closing line on this one.

I know, fanfic advice from my Mom? Ew. She doesn't know I used it here, though; it's just something she used to say.

--xxx—

''Craptacular.'' Seth muttered, watching most of the line he was trying to store slip into the water. Sighing, he slumped down to sit on _The Summer Breeze_, his eyes glazing as he once again fought against the urge to resent his best friend. It wasn't Ryan's fault that events had fallen out as they had, after all. It was just……. He started tugging the damp nylon twist out of the water, using more force than the job really called for. He was actually rocking the vessel back and forth when a voice interrupted his self-pitying contemplations.

''Hey, Cohen.'' Luke was standing there on the dock, looking as if he wasn't sure if his presence would be welcome or not. He looked away, and the slimmer boy followed his gaze to see Mr. Ward standing further down the way; near a slip where a pair of jet-skis was being towed onto a trailer. ''You need a hand?"

''I guess.'' The jock waved towards his father, who nodded; crouching down next to '_Breeze_'s slip but not making a move toward any of the lines. Waiting, Seth realized, to be told what to do. He directed the guy towards one end of the sail, glad he wouldn't have to ask some stranger's help in rolling it up for the season. ''Your Dad doesn't need you?''

''Nah.'' The taller boy shrugged, hands busy with the chore he'd been given. ''He won't need me until he gets the stuff to dry dock. **Then** I've gotta scrub them clean.'' That sounded like hours of actual work, he lost a few seconds grinning at the image of his former tormentor slaving away at the hull of his family's water craft. Amusement faded as he remembered the phone call earlier, capping the disappointing events of the day.

It may have been a typically beautiful California morning, but his weather-charted emotional level was at 'monsoon'.

''Sounds like a fun job.'' He wasn't in the mood to sympathize with anyone, just then. So Luke would actually have to work, so what? At least the blonde's problems were transient and somewhat fixable. His own were a muddled mess of possibilities and theories; all of which appeared insurmountable and permanent. Yessir, 'monsoon' it was, with a possibility of dropping down into 'hurricane'.

''We usually hire a service.'' He nodded, more interested in the material under his hands, with getting it properly into its appropriate bag. Concentrating on** that **kept him from thinking about anything else, and he needed** not** to think. Every time he started thinking, he just felt worse. If he kept up like this, he'd be at 'Day After' levels by lunch. ''It's all part of my punishment.''

''Punishment?'' He was genuinely surprised. Seth had thought that the loss of the truck, of driving privileges (along with the grounding); would be the extent of the other's reaping from the sowing of putting Ryan in the hospital. And it wasn't like the guy had ever been punished **before**. Not even after the model home fire had he been called to task for his actions. Looked like the Wards were (however belatedly) finally stepping into their authority as parents.

''Yeah.'' Luke looked up from securing the sail, frowning at the shock on his face. ''Dude, did you really think I'd get off with nothing? Wait, don't answer that.'' There was a bitter chuckle, a pained expression of guilt 'New Luke', he reminded himself as they moved on to the next step in readying _The Summer Breeze_ for winter. Despite the relapse of punching his brother's lights out, this was still 'new Luke'. ''I'm only allowed to keep playing soccer because my therapist ……yeah, they're making me see a therapist.'' Big hands tugged lines tight as he smoothed the knots with his more nimble digits. ''I almost killed a guy. _**Twice**_. Hell,** I** think I need a therapist.''

''I've been saying that for years.'' He got a bewildered blue glance for that and grinned. ''Not that anyone's been _listening_, but I **have** been saying it.'' They worked companionably for a while, winding lines tight and making sure the small craft was free of extraneous or loose equipment.

''Well, the therapist says soccer helps me deal with my anger issues, so that's about the only thing they're letting me out of the house for besides school. And you should see my room…..'' Luke stretched, twisting his head from side to side, letting Seth signal the dock master that his gear was ready for inspection. ''No games, no porno, no computer; shit, they even took the _**posters**_. I wouldn't even have any music, if Mom hadn't decided it'd help me do my homework faster.'' While the thought of the other's restrictions cheered him (nearly lifting 'monsoon' into 'heavy rain'), he had to find the next thing to distract him before his morose thoughts became too intense, again.

''Can't say I feel that sorry for you, man.'' Seth signed the authorization to have his catamaran cleaned and stored, peeling off some bills from his pocket to cover the costs. He could've used the card his grandfather had given him for the care of his small craft, but he felt like being independent, just now. Like pretending he could be self-sufficient, if he put his mind to it. ''Sounds like…….''

''Just what I deserve, I know.'' The bigger boy stuck his hands in his pockets, shifting his feet, and the brunette was struck by the familiarity of the body language. How often had he stood somewhere, just that way, wishing and praying that someone, anyone, would give him more than a moment (a positive moment, that is) of their time. He remembered, as well, how Luke had complained that all his 'jock buddies' were only interested in being friends with him so long as he had a cool car, fast boat, permissive parents, and a hot girlfriend.

What could it hurt to be the better man? He asked himself. It's 'new Luke', after all, and it'd be nice to have someone to talk to, maybe even with.

''Grab some chili fries?'' Remembering how his previous invitations, over the years, had been treated; he braced for rejection. Just because the guy liked hanging with Seth-and-Ryan, it didn't automatically follow that he'd want to hang with just-Seth.

''Sure. Sounds good.'' He knew most of the other's enthusiasm was probably the postponement of manual labor (working on his family's water craft), but it still felt good, that someone wanted to spend some time with him. Not like _**her**_. Depressed again, he sighed heavily, motioning the way with a shrug of his shoulders. The two boys made their way over to the vendor, cushioning their hands against the bottom of the thin cardboard snack with respective handfuls of napkins. ''Hey, Cohen; you okay? You're ………..really quiet. For you, that's like: bleeding from the head or something.''

''It's Summer.'' As he wasn't addressing his family, he didn't have to hear the somewhat obligatory 'when isn't it' response to his opening statement. It was kind of nice to have someone new to listen to his thoughts and concerns.

He didn't care if it was only because the guy didn't have anything better to do.

Starting chronologically, with the bad news from Doctor Kim, he went through the downhill slide of the morning's events. Testing Ryan to see if he could get into Harbor? Not a good. Seth didn't have a lot of faith in the integrity of a school system that had continually failed to see the torture he'd endured, the disparity between the behavior of the students in class and their behavior once away from adult supervision. So what was going to keep them from saying his brother had failed and denying him entry, even if he aced it? Then, there was the fact that, all day, he hadn't seen one stray hair of Summer Roberts. He hadn't run into her anywhere on campus, hadn't seen her since they'd gotten back from Comicon, in point of fact. He'd just begun to worry about that, when his mother (his own mother!) asked him to 'make himself scarce', so his foster brother could study. Like he was distracting or something! He could've helped!

The final blow had come when he'd called his angel, to see if she wanted to do something during his unexpected free hours; only to have her tell him that she wasn't sure they should be spending that much time together at **all**. That had led to the revelation of her reasons behind the recent no-kissing. Summer said that she didn't want to do anything because it wouldn't be 'fair' to Taylor and Ryan. What did **their **situation have to do with whether or not she wanted to be with **him**? What was she really trying to say with this decision? What had happened, what had he done; that made her stop liking him? Was it the hair? Because, for _**her**_, he'd be willing to lose more than his stylish jewfro.

Luke's sudden laughter didn't help matters. The familiar sound only made him feel worse.

'Thunderstorm' was drifting right back down to 'monsoon', with signs (once again) of 'hurricane' if things didn't improve.

''Yeah, not really seeing the funny here, man. Or enjoying the return of 'old Luke'. '' He dropped the suddenly unappetizing remains of his greasy treat in the trash can. Scowling, he wiped his fingers clean, wondering why he thought the other boy would make a good confidant. This is what lack of options does to you, he groused internally. You end up talking, **really** talking; to the first muscle-monkey that refrains from pounding you into the pavement.

''Dude, I thought you were smart.'' Luke tossed his container as well, seeming less concerned with the grease on his fingers than their conversation. That the guy wasn't all that hygienic: yeah, only to be expected. That he was showing signs of caring about someone else (a non-jock, non-hottie someone else): what the heck? ''Of all people, **you** should know the girl better than **that**.''

'' Enlighten me. What am I missing?'' He tossed the napkins as well, leaning heavily against the railing of the dock. ''That she doesn't want to be seen with me? That she'd rather be with someone else?'' Almost, he spoke his greatest fear; the one that remembered who she'd drunkenly focused on, the night of the fashion show. Seth swallowed past the idiotic paranoia, trying to shake off the image of the girl he loved with her arms around the neck of his best friend. ''Someone who isn't a social outcast? Someone more popular?'' And now he narrowed his eyes at the taller boy; wondering if he should be suspicious of this one or not.

''Cohen, she **kissed** you.'' His face practically shouted 'yes, and?', making the other boy smirk. ''In front of her **father**, she kissed you. And come on…'' The muscled shoulder nudged his scrawny one; an action not unlike a large dog shoving itself against his leg. ''…..if she was _really_ into Atwood, she never would've left the hospital.'' How did Luke guess that…… Oh, right. He'd been at that after-party, too. You'd think he'd remember that more clearly, given the fight had been his first (beatings and pummelings didn't count); but his memories of that night consisted mostly of hazy images with one or two sharply clear moments.

Unfortunately, the moments that were clear in his memory weren't ones he wanted to think about.

His paranoia was obviously unfounded, too; because he knew his Summer. If she'd been interested in Ryan, she would've planted herself at the hospital until the guy was released. With her father on the board, it would be the brave medical practitioner indeed that dared the girl's wrath to try and enforce visiting hours, 'family only', or any of the other rules restricting access to patients.

''This is true.'' He answered his (once again considered as) friend's observation. Summer had seemed more worried about him and Taylor, to be honest. That pushed him right back up to 'thunderstorm'. Because, while it was nice to know he was without competition; that didn't necessarily mean he was back in the game. ''Okay, so she's not interested in anyone else. That doesn't mean…..''

''Do you know how close the Roberts are?'' Without waiting for an answer, the other went on making his point. ''Last year, most of us went to Miami for spring break. Summer chose to stay **here**, so she could go to _Disneyland_ with her father.'' Poking him with his finger, the taller boy nodded to emphasize the significance of what he was saying. ''She turned down _**Miami**_ to go see _a giant mouse_ with her **dad**.'' Crossing his arms over his wide chest with an air of vast satisfaction, Luke smiled and finished his argument. ''This is the man she kissed you in front of. Not something she'd do with a guy she didn't like.''

''While I appreciate the argument that she's just freaking out over liking 'Seth Cohen'; you're forgetting the 'fair-to-Taylor' idea. Is that **really** what she's thinking, or is it just an …….''

''It's really what she's thinking.''

''And you know this, because…….''

''Summer is ferociously loyal to her friends. I mean, **really** ferocious. Vicious, even. Dude, she cracked three of the bones in my **foot**, one time; because I bought Marissa a diet soda. What kind of reason is **that**?''

''I think, in girl-speak, buying her a diet is like saying she's fat. You're lucky to still be breathing.''

''Don't I know it.'' They exchanged long-suffering looks about the crazy-weirdness that is girls, turning their gazes back out over the ocean. ''In case I missed saying it: you've got some** guts**, dating her. You know about the rage blackouts, right?''

''I've been duly warned.'' He remembered the lunch, prior to Comicon, where she threatened to poke him in the eye with a fork if he didn't stop talking in his 'geek voice'. He'd only been trying to make her laugh, doing his impersonations of famous anime characters. Thank goodness Taylor had arrived shortly thereafter, giving him a better audience for his act; as well as some better ideas for entertaining the lovely Miss Roberts. ''Speaking of warning, what do you think we should do about the Zach-Taylor-Ryan thing?'' There was an absolute blank look, making Seth realize that the third 'Amigo' was a little out of the loop still. ''Zach Stevens? He was hitting on Taylor this past weekend. I don't think her dating Ryan is gonna keep him away, ei………''

''What the fuck was that guy doing there?'' Luke looked, no other word for it; worried. What was the big deal? The guy liked comics, right? What was so strange about…….

''You're saying he doesn't go to comic-book conventions?'' A tight fist of fear clenched around his stomach as the other boy shook his head and he was very, very glad he hadn't eaten much of his fries. Several facts started clicking together in his brain, all personal weather levels set aside in the internal calculation of events. Once the inevitable conclusion had been reached, he started cursing; using all the words he'd ever overheard from mechanics, his father, Rosa, his grandfather, Ryan, and whatever other random sources he could recall. Finally, he wound down enough to say: ''Stupid! I' m so stupid! How could I not see this? How could………''

''Cohen!'' The taller boy had him by the shoulders, a look on his face like he thought there was an outbreak of Tourette's . ''Slow it down. What's going on?''

''Veronica let Taylor go to Comicon.''

''Yeah, I knew………''

''This is a woman who doesn't trust her daughter's word about whether or not she's still a virgin; and she let her go to _a __**hotel**__ for the weekend_.'' It sunk in, it sunk in and he nodded at the light of realization in the pale blue eyes. Realization quickly followed by confusion, so he asked a few pointed questions. ''What if Ryan had fought back, when you attacked him? Since he's what Marissa's after, no offense; she probably would've claimed they were making out, that **you** started the fight ……''

''Atwood would've told the truth about……..''

''Aside from my family, who would've believed him?'' Horror flashed, then disgust, finally settling on a cold, hard rage. Since the guy's hands weren't clenched into fists, there was still some thinking going on. Looked like the scare Ryan's hospital stay had put into him had some long-term effects. ''So Taylor hears about it, she gets a little doubtful …………''

''Your brother's not the best talker, and Zach's on the debate team. Yeah, I see where you're going.'' Luke appeared worried as well as angry. He was right there with him on that one. What to do now? They needed a plan, something to reassure Taylor as well as warn Zach off. Something, he thought, glancing at the other boy's pissed-off expression; that doesn't involve punching people. Something a girl …….. Ah, of course.

''Summer.'' He got a strange look, but Seth knew that the warrior princess of his heart would (once she was through ranting about 'heartless barracudas who shouldn't be trusted with a potted plant, let along Tay') come up with a fantastic plan. And even if she **didn't**, this was a legitimate excuse to go see her. Anyone who wanted to put their own love life on hold would be all over preventing Veronica's (and her bitch-apprentice's) evil plan from succeeding. ''We should go see Summer.''

''Yeah, not gonna happen.'' The taller boy shrugged, looking more relieved than guilty about bailing on him. ''Sorry, but my Dad's kinda got me on a short leash.'' He tilted his blonde head towards where the man in question was tapping his wrist and looking impatient. ''That, and I no longer have the protection of dating one of her friends. She'd rip my throat out.''

''If she was in a good mood.'' He didn't want to be understanding, but he knew that 'rents could be most unreasonable when emergencies interfered with their punishments. They never understood how vital the matters that 'challenged their authority' actually were. It was like they forgot about what was really important (friends, loyalty) in favor of following the rules to their strictest interpretation. Not **his **parents, of course; but all others…….. ''Could you drop me off?''

''Sure.'' The two started towards the older male, Luke lowering his voice conspiratorially. ''You need to watch out for Stevens. He's a fox.''

''Something you want to tell me, Luke?'' Seth eyed him nervously out of the corners of his eyes. All he knew about 'fox' was that it was a term meaning 'attractive', usually applied to the female of the species. And Summer had said, during the brief Comicon conference over the possibility of a triangle forming; that Zach was like the 'Prince William' of Harbor. Was the jock trying to say something? Something involving closets and things he didn't want to know?

''No! Dude…….'' Mister Ward motioned then into the vehicle, not seeming surprised or upset about his inclusion. There was a pause as the man's son related his request for transport to the Roberts', then the two boys resumed their conversation. ''Look, you know what it means to call a guy 'wolf', right?''

''Yeah……'' He'd heard the pattern of behavior (conning girls into sleeping with them, then casting the ladies aside) called 'hound' or, more often, 'dog'; but he got the gist of it. Not that he'd been actively included in those discussions; but that didn't mean he hadn't heard them. ''Never heard of a _guy_ being a 'fox', though.''

''It's something my mom says.'' The other boy looked a little embarrassed, but persisted in delivering what he obviously thought was an important warning. ''What's the difference between a fox and a wolf?''

''Uhm…. I'm thinking….hygiene?''

''A fox brings flowers.''


	7. Seven

**A/N: **Once again, we enter a mind not ruled by reason or logic; a mind not driven by hormones or emotion. A mind where the self-involved need to be the center of sympathetic attention is law.

Come, once more, to the twilight of the Marissa zone…………

(hey, one doesn't throw off years of being a sci-fi geek overnight)

--xxx—

''Marissa? Come down here, young lady!''

''One minute!'' Marissa gave her hair one last brush and grabbed her purse. From the way her mom was acting, you'd think that waiting registration until the afternoon was a huge deal. There were girls who waited until the last day to sign up for classes, so it wasn't like she had to go today. Even social committee didn't have its first meeting until next Monday. Last year, she hadn't gone to registration until Wednesday, because the family had been vacationing at Big Sur all summer. She sighed, slowing her feet as she went down the stairs; remembering what it had been like, when the family had been happy.

When the family had been whole.

Now, her father was all alone; and no one seemed to care what happened to him. She did, but what could she do? She couldn't even contact her associate to insist that the woman's end of the bargain be upheld. She'd done her part, even it hadn't turned out quite like she'd thought. Her mother had, predictably, turned against her after that mess. She'd been grounded, as if the whole thing had been her fault. If Luke hadn't shown up, things would've gone a lot smoother. She'd improvised as best she could, trying to set the two boys at each other. It would've made the rumors about her and Ryan being involved more believable; if the two had gone after each other. It really should've worked, too; they'd been enemies longer than they'd been friends. She didn't understand what had happened, how the plan had gone wrong.

Ryan should've defended himself, should've been able to take the bigger boy in a fight. Why hadn't he? Why had he acted like he didn't want her, like he was mad at her? She'd felt the hard ache in him, knew he wanted what she'd tried to give him. Why couldn't he have just gone with it? Everyone would be better off, if he'd just done what he obviously wanted to do. He would've enjoyed it, too; her time with the other boy had showed her she was good at it. Better than that lying whore the Cohen's ward was drooling after, certainly.

If only Luke had kept his mouth shut about what they'd done together. She could've gotten the other boy to 'save' her, played off the involvement with his rival as 'being pressured' into doing stuff she didn't want to; if he hadn't blabbed. She blushed, remembering the humiliating lecture her mother had forced her to listen to; all about the need for compassion (and safe-sex practices) when conducting an affair. Right. Like **that **woman knew anything about compassion, dumping her _one true love_ because he made a few mistakes. Like she knew _**anything**_ about the real dangers Marissa was facing, or the reasons she'd done what she'd done.

''In here.'' Julie motioned her towards the den and she stalked over (still pissed at being treated like a child by the woman), stopping dead when she saw who was waiting there.

''Miss Cooper.'' Caleb Nichol stood up from the chair he'd been sitting in, his face hard and mean-looking. He'd been staring at her like that at the hospital, too; like he was disgusted by her and pitied her at the same time.

''Mister Nichol.'' Marissa shook his hand, sending her mother a confused glance. What could he be doing here? If there were charges to be brought, then he should be at Luke's place, shouldn't he? Maybe something had happened, after she was dragged from the hospital (accused of throwing a tantrum, of all things) in disgrace. ''Is Ryan okay?''

''Fine.'' He snapped the word at her, and she was again struck by the fact that he seemed to be irritated with her. It wasn't fair, she hadn't done anything to **him**. ''Shall we sit down?''

''Of course.'' Her mother wasn't simpering, exactly; but the woman's behavior towards their visitor was making her sick. Just because he was this big shot, didn't mean Julie had to smile at him like **that**. She should be smiling at her** husband** like that, not some nasty old man. She deliberately sat on one of the chairs, not the cushion of the sofa, next to the older woman. Mister Nichol raised an eyebrow at the maneuver, setting himself back down in the easy chair. Her _father's_ chair, she noticed, and her blood boiled.

''I'd like to talk to you about these.'' The mean old man leaned forward, tapping the photographs spread out over the coffee table. She hadn't noticed them, until now; and glanced down to see what they were, what they had to do with his (unwanted) presence in her home.

''Oh my God.'' She didn't have to pretend shock. The pictures had been part of the plan, the 'proof' Taylor would need to believe that her boyfriend (and wasn't that a joke, he wasn't the 'boyfriend' type) was cheating on her; but no one else was supposed to see them. ''Where did those come from?'' Where did he get them, she meant, but couldn't ask. ''Someone was watching me?'' Someone who took lousy shots, she thought in annoyance. My butt's not **that** big, and my hair doesn't really look like tangled straw.

''As entertaining as it would be to pretend you're innocent in all this, Marissa; I'm not in the mood to play that game.'' Mister Nichol swept the photos up into a folder, glaring at her the whole time. This wasn't how people were supposed to react, it wasn't _**right**_. They were supposed to be protective of her, concerned about some nameless person spying on her. ''What did she promise you?''

''I don't know what…….'' His wrinkled hand slapped down on the folder, making her jump. Her mother cleared her throat warningly, the defensive reaction startling her. She would've thought Julie would be eager to throw her to the wolves of Orange County if there was the slightest chance such a gesture would put the woman back on top. ''Mom, I don't understand.'' She allowed her eyes to fill, hoping to reach the deeply buried maternal instinct.

''He knows, Marissa.'' So much for motherhood, she thought without surprise. Guess that scene in the hospital was a one-time deal. Going up against 'the King of Newport' was obviously not on the agenda for today. ''He knows that you're involved with Veronica Townsend, trying to break up Taylor and……..Ryan.'' That speaking the name without hostility took effort was obvious, as was her mother's reasons for doing so. She had only to look at the smug jerk in her father's chair, and it all became clear.

''Doctor Kim was **very** concerned about admitting my new grandson, when she got a look at these.'' The old bastard was saying, acting like it was her fault …... Wait. Principal Kim had seen these? But Veronica had said they were only for_ Taylor_ to see, to make the little bitch break up with the guy who should've been **Marissa's**. ''Fortunately, she's a fair-minded woman. He'll be admitted on the strength of his placement exam and other test scores; and that will be an end to it.'' He glared at her, leaning forward again. Julie moved as well, scooting across the couch to be closer to her daughter. Like she even cares, Marissa thought to herself. It's all an act, like caring about Dad; just for show. ''Do you understand what I'm saying? This…..'' Mister Nichol put his palm (gently, this time) on top of the folder containing the pictures. ''……will be the** end** of it. You will have _**nothing**_ more to do with my grandson; _either _of my grandsons. If your mother hadn't convinced me that you were being manipulated just like the rest of us; I'd have you expelled, shipped to a boarding school out of state, get a restraining order: whatever it took.'' As he listed off the things he could do to her, the ways he could ruin her life; she felt a vast resentment rise up. This wasn't _**her **_fault, why was everyone so mad at** her**? They should blame the Townsends, the evil bitches who'd stolen from her (Taylor) and stabbed her in the back (Veronica) as well as spreading lies (so well even the cops were taken in) about her father. ''But I won't have to do that, will I?''

''Of course not, Cal.'' God, she wanted to puke. She wanted to tell the woman to wait until she was out of the room before flirting with some old man. The ink's not even dry on her divorce yet, Marissa thought sourly. ''Marissa?''

''Fine.'' She stood up, wanting to be elsewhere. They couldn't really stop her, not really. There were other ways to get what she wanted, ways that didn't involve traitorous witches like Taylor's mother. ''Can I go now? I have to register for school.''

''I'd like an answer to my question.'' What question? All he'd done was threaten and accuse her, the nasty old bastard. She crossed her arms over her chest, frowning at him. He was still sitting, but he made her feel like she was being towered over. For some reason, his ice-blue gaze was hard to meet. ''Was it just the chance to get Ryan back, or was there something else?'' Oh. **That** question. Well, no point in keeping faith with someone who'd double-crossed her, showing those (badly taken) photos to a school official.

''She said she'd do something to help my Dad.'' Why should she show any loyalty to someone who hadn't lived up to their end of things? If her associate had lied about who she was showing the pictures to, then she'd probably lied about the job offer; so there was no reason to keep her mouth shut. She shot a dark look at her mother, scowling at the blank expression. That Jimmie might **need** help had obviously never occurred to the woman. Figured. ''No one **else** was doing anything.'' That was a deliberate insult, she smiled a bit when she saw it hit home with the flicker of shame in her mother's eyes.

''**I** will.'' _**What?**_ Her jaw dropped open, watching Mister Nichol stand up, nodding at her mother, preparing to take his leave. ''I'll get him something at the Newport Group, or maybe one of our ancillaries.'' The man (suddenly not as old or nasty) extended his hand towards her, piercing gaze expectant. ''Well? Do we have a deal? You stay away from Ryan, stay out of things between him and Taylor; and your father won't have to worry about his next meal. He won't be as well off as before, but he'll be at least solvent.''

''Cal….'' She wanted to scream at her mother to shut up, not to wreck Dad's chances. She snatched at the hand, interrupting whatever Julie had been about to say.

''Deal.'' They shook, his fingers firm in her grip. He didn't seem so bad, now that he wasn't glaring at her, or sitting in her father's place. This deal would turn out **much** better than the last one, she felt. With her mother as a witness, there was no way the guy could wiggle out of it. Maybe the divorce would even be canceled, now that Jimmie wasn't broke anymore. ''I've got to go. Registration, you know?'' The adults let her leave, Julie wishing her 'luck' in her selection of classes and reminding her to 'have fun'.

She almost sounded sincere, too.

Marissa got behind the wheel of her mother's car, borrowed due to Summer's mysterious refusal to take her calls. All her attempts to contact her best friend had gone straight to voice-mail, which was weird. She hoped the silence didn't mean the girl was hanging with the evil that was Taylor Townsend. She'd switch the slut's shampoo with more than pink hair dye if the preppy little savage came between her and anyone **else** she cared about. Her deal with Caleb wouldn't keep her from protecting her friends from **that** bitch; even if_ they_ couldn't see the truth behind the 'sweet and innocent' mask. With her position as social chair, she had **more** than enough influence at Harbor to get things done without having to get directly involved. There'd be suspicion, of course; but no one would be able to prove anything, she'd see to that. Once things went back to the way they were **supposed** to be, everyone would be so grateful to her (the amount of groveling they'd have to do would be measured by how mean they were to her during this crises) that stretching the terms of her bargain wouldn't really matter.

In this type of situation, she thought smugly, **all** actions were considered fair.

Dorksend didn't know it yet, but this?

This is war.


	8. Eight

**A/N: ** For those of you who felt cheated at the shortness of the Marissa/Taylor smack-down: this one's for you.

--xxx—

Summer couldn't believe her ears.

Oh, it wasn't the evilness of Coop she was having a problem with. She knew all too well how vicious her former best friend could get; how manipulative and self-absorbed. There was the shampoo/dye incident, last year, with Tay (back when she was still Dorksend). There was the time she'd called the cops on a party (that hadn't really been **that** wild) just because she hadn't been invited. There was the time Summer had confessed to a crush on an exchange student (he'd been kind of Cohen-like, actually; but in a suave Latino manner) that had been all over the school the next day. Marissa had said that she'd done it to _protect_ her friend from being hurt by the guy, but she'd seen the girl flirting with him that very afternoon.

It had taken her a long time to forgive Coop for** that** one.

But forgive her she had, and for a lot of other, minor things; that she'd never really thought about. She'd just thought they were the normal things best friends/almost-sisters went through. Until she started spending time with Tay, that is. The auburn beauty had shown her just what it was like to have a _**real**_ friend; someone who would stick by you no matter what, who wouldn't judge, who would be honest with you. Someone who cared just as much about **you** as they did themselves. In Townsend's case (and Chino's), unfortunately, it might actually be that she cared** more** about others than she did about herself. Understandable, what with the crap her mother had been feeding her (the shit he'd lived through) the past fifteen years. That was why Tay and Chino were so perfect for each other: they both needed that_** one**_ person who would put them at the head of the 'I care about you' line.

What she couldn't believe was that Cohen couldn't understand that, that he couldn't see she was just trying to be a good friend to Tay; a better friend than Marissa had ever been to her. This was hard for her, too; did he really not get that?

From the moment he'd shown up, pissed off and panicked, at her door; she'd had to resist the urge to throw her arms around him and show him how much she'd missed him, how relieved she'd been that it was his brother, and not him (and didn't** that** make her feel like a heartless cow), that had the head injury. The urge had only gotten stronger as he'd laid out (over a hasty lunch in her kitchen) what he and Luke had pieced together. He'd talked her out of getting her Dad's medical bag and performing some unnecessary (cranial rectotomy) surgery on Veronica Townsend. Maybe doping Marissa up so that the crazy witch would _**back off**_ long enough for them to figure out a permanent fix to the mess that girl had created.

Cohen had gotten a call while they'd been arguing over what to do (as well as her motivations for putting the kissing on hold) that turned out to be his mother. Chino was going to the school to take his placement test that afternoon, and her boyfriend (still only calling him that in her head) wanted to be there. Summer had been more than willing to give him a ride to campus. She let him think she was showing morale support (like he was) but, in reality; she wanted to see if either of the two evil ones (Zach being a tool, in more than one sense of the word) had the nerve to show their faces. She'd have some choice words (none of them very lady-like) for them, if they did.

''Hey, Summer!'' She stopped to gossip with the girls of her clique, waving to where Caleb and Kirsten were waiting for the (suddenly quiet) boy to join them. Ryan wasn't there, probably already taking his test. From the way the two adults suddenly frowned (in unison), she figured her guy was updating them about the scheme he'd caught on to. ''What's with the loser? You doing extra charity work?'' The trio moved off, Seth waving his hands animatedly as he talked. What Holly just said registered past the distraction, and her attention shifted to narrow balefully on the smirking girl.

''Oh, shut up.'' She snapped. She wasn't in any mood to listen to the skank dumping on her guy. Why did she care what these people thought anyway?** They** were the losers, thinking that getting drunk every night somehow made them better than everyone else. She hated that she'd ever been one of them. ''So I'm dating Cohen. So what? I don't need your lame-ass opinions to live my life.''

''You sure changed your mind since Cotillion. He must be pretty good in the sack.'' Jess commented snidely, nudging her bimbo friends to cue their giggling.

''And Doug Nordlund must be pretty lousy for you to dump him so fast.'' The girl's mouth dropped open, apparently outraged that Summer would retaliate so accurately. ''How long did he last? Two weeks? Must be a new record for you, going with a guy for that length of time.'' Now the lips were shut tight, the other glaring at her resentfully. ''How's Derrick doing, Holly?'' She asked with false concern, relishing the way the platinum blonde looked around nervously. ''Still talking about queers all the time? You know what they say about guys who can't stop thinking about homos……''

''You can really tell you're spending time with Dorksend.'' Jess countered, almost snarling the words. ''You sound just like that stupid bitch.'' Takes one to know one, she thought of saying; before deciding to take the high road.

''Thanks so much!'' Summer smiled at their shock, their surprise that she took the comparison to Tay as a compliment. ''I'd rather be thought of as like the intelligent, caring, loyal, super-fun person I've found out Tay is than to coast along as the brainless, stoned-out, Botox clones you guys **are**.'' Open mouthed, they gaped at her, blinking as they tried to process her utter disregard for their viewpoint, their power as the school's social elite. ''Now why don't you whores go work another corner.'' She stalked off towards the admin building (where Ryan would be taking his exam), feeling like she'd had a weight lifted from her that she hadn't even known was there. She was feeling good, actually cheerful (despite everything) when she saw who was heading towards Doctor Kim's office. ''Oh, **hell** no.'' She sped up, calling out when she saw she wasn't going to get there before the blonde girl reached the building's steps. ''Marissa!''

''Hey, Sum.'' There was a chill in the blue eyes, despite the civility of her voice. ''Good to see you.'' Marissa turned back towards the steps, obviously thinking about blowing her off in favor of ……what? Whatever she was planning, it wasn't going to be a good thing, she knew that much.

''Going somewhere?'' Summer was quick to plant herself in front of her former friend, just a tad out of breath from her rushing that final little distance. ''To mess with Chino, maybe?''

''You don't have to call him that.'' The other girl narrowed her gaze, apparently suspicious about her motives in regards to Ryan. If that isn't the pot and the kettle, the brunette thought wryly. ''It's rude.''

''It's a _**nickname**_.'' She leaned in, glad when the blonde moved back. She stepped forward, trying to make the other back up some more. This time, though; the taller girl stood her ground. ''It's something, as his **friend**, I'm permitted to call him.''

''Like calling me 'Coop', huh, Sum?'' She refused to return the smile, crossing her arms over her chest to make her hostility plain. The smile faded, tears welled artfully up in the frigid eyes. ''What did Dorksend say to make you hate me so much?''

''Tay didn't have anything to do with it. You destroyed our friendship all by your selfish little self.'' Summer put her hands on her hips, feeling the familiar rage surging through her. She let it come, let it fill her up and free her to say everything she'd always been too afraid of losing her best friend to say. There were more important things than keeping a friend, after all; especially when that friend had shown herself to be so……mean. ''…….and you got me a diet book for my birthday, which is a sucky present, joke or not; and you always go after guys I like, or you dump on them until I stop seeing them; and you nearly got Chino killed, twice; and you don't have any right to get between him and ………''

''I saw him first.'' Marissa snapped, putting her hands on her hips as well. She glared, eyes flashing with malice; no sign of the Coop she'd once considered to be like a sister. ''What's the matter? Afraid Dorksend will get there first?'' She saw red, shoving the taller girl hard; so that she stumbled back a few steps.

''Remember what I said would happen if you mean squirreled Tay?'' Her breath was coming in bursts, the anger pulsing through her so strong that she could barely breathe. Her eyes were already black as she shoved the girl again, knocking her back another few steps.

''You're brain-damaged with that squirrel shit.'' The blonde shoved her in retaliation, very little force behind it, revealing how weak she really was. ''That must be how Cohen got in; you're having a mental break…..''

Echoes of her slapping the bitch seemed to hang in the air, waiting until the other girl turned her head back around from where the force of the blow had sent it. She slapped Summer, impact from a ring she had on making the brunette's cheek throb. Snarling, the shorter girl slapped again, this time a back-handed blow. Before the other could respond, she wrapped her hands around the swan-like neck and shook the girl violently. Ignoring the pain in her scalp as Marissa grabbed handfuls of her hair and tugged with vicious force, she shook harder, gripping the throat tighter. One fingernail scratched her ear, drawing a tiny trickle of blood, and she kicked out; feeling the shock of impact with her opponent's shin travel up from her toes.

The two combatants shoved back and forth, hissing insults at each other. She kicked again, grunting with satisfaction when the hold on her head loosened a bit. Teeth dug into her forearm, making her shriek with rage more than pain. Yanking her hands away from the other's upper body, breaking the clinch before she could lose a chunk of hair; the tiny brunette pulled back a fist, aiming for the other girl's solar plexus. Just as she let fly, she heard the yelling.

**Adult** yelling, as opposed to the surf-like sound that had swelled around her until now.

''What is going on here?'' It was too late to stop the blow, and watching the blonde hunch over, retching; made having Doctor Kim nearly dislocate her shoulder worth it. ''What do you think you're doing?''

''She's not even sorry!'' Summer saw that the woman didn't understand and tried to calm herself down. Getting caught up in a rage blackout was confusing, she looked around at the crowd of students in surprise. Where had all these people come from?

''She attacked me!'' Marissa burst into tears, making the brunette feel sick to her stomach. Predictable, she thought sourly. 'Poor little Marissa' strikes again.

''This is not happening.'' The Dean of Students dropped Summer's arm, shifting her gaze back and forth between the two girls, obviously so livid she could barely speak. ''The only reason I'm not punishing you both is that school hasn't **officially** started, as yet. You will come back tomorrow, **with** your parents, if you need to register.'' She turned to leave, then turned back around. ''There will not be a repeat of this, **ever**; is that understood?'' Both girls nodded, the taller one sniffling and the shorter one with her arms crossed to hide the shaking. The door slammed loudly behind the woman, freeing everyone from immobile silence.

''Stay away from me and my friends, Cooper.'' She warned the girl, not caring how it sounded. The gossip was already swirling, she could see the excited speculation in nearly every face. ''You ever come between Chino and Tay again, and you'll get a **lot **more than a gut-punch. As of now, we're _**through**_.''

''How could you do this to me?'' That was more for the gathered teens than a response to the threat, she knew. Just like the crocodile tears rolling down the reddened cheeks. ''We were best friends, what happened to you?" The last was said on a wail that grated on every nerve she had. She glared, clenching her jaw at the blatant manipulation of the students around them.

''This is what you get when you treat people like crap instead of friends, Cooper.'' She refused to allow the girl to weasel out of her part in this mess. Marissa was as much to blame for things turning out as they had as anyone else. The flinch when she stepped forward convinced her that this incident would stick with the girl, it may even teach her something. ''Just because something bad happens to you doesn't mean you get to make everyone around you miserable.''

''Fat lot you know.'' Her ex-friend whimpered, cuddling close to the 'comfort' of Jess and Holly. ''You've never had anything awful happen your whole life.''

''That you know of. You're so self-absorbed, such a self-centered spoiled little brat; all you care about is how many guys are drooling after you, whether or not you're the center of attention.'' She supposed she could've made her point by talking about how her real mother had died of ovarian cancer when she was five. How she didn't have a thing from the woman, not even memories or pictures; because her father (who she hardly saw, these days) had sold everything in a fit of grief and refused to talk about his first wife at all. She could've brought up the step-monster, the dangers of taking so much as an aspirin in a house with a drug addict. The fear of losing her virginity to some drunken jock-ass who wouldn't remember her name in the morning, who might hurt her during the night. Summer preferred to keep such things private (or just between her and Tay – or her and Seth), though; especially since she was coming to realize how little she cared about what the majority of the students of Harbor thought. Spotting the familiar dark curls headed her way, towering above the mussed blonde and smooth auburn; she delivered one final warning. ''New flash: I'm canceling your never-ending pity-party. From now on, '' she raised her palm towards the tear-streaked face as she went past on her way to meet her **true** friends ''you can talk to the hand.''


	9. Nine

**A/N: **Bit of a time-skip, couple days? Also, something of scene Krisz asked for, over in Hills. Kind of.

Got all non-English from Babelfish, so it might be wrong. Sorry, any native speakers.

--xxx—

Taylor cheered as loudly as anyone else, jumping up and down and clapping her hands as Ryan scored the victorious goal, ending the game. The crowd flowed down onto the field, patting the boys on their maroon-clad backs. Her guy made directly for her, pulling her aside, away from the yelling and shouting; to duck under the edge of the bleachers. Protests about breaking the deal died in her throat, silenced by the hypnotically intense look in his deep blue eyes. She fancied she could hear the surf, locking gazes with him; but knew it was just the sound of the crowd, on the other side of the wood and steel seating.

The support pillar was firm against her back, his face lowering towards hers in slow motion, his hands gentle on her hips. She gasped at the electric warmth of his lips, the hard weight of his body pressing against her. She moaned into his mouth, twining her fingers into the sweaty dampness of his hair and not caring about anything but what he made her feel. Warm and chill teased her skin, his palms rubbing up and down her back, pulling her polo shirt out of her jeans. Everything else in the world seemed to vanish, fading to unimportance in the need to get his shirt off; to feel and see what she'd only dreamed about.

……_little miss innocent, sugar me…….._

His hands on her butt, holding her tight against him the heady scent of sweat, of _**him**_, making her dizzy. She leaned her head back, hazel eyes closed in bliss, feeling his hot lips on her neck, his shoulders tight under her fingers.

……_..from my head, to my feet………_

Something was wrong …….the support pillar was becoming soft ………Ryan's body was losing heat ……….what was ……..

……_..red light, yellow light, green light; go……_

Taylor sat straight up in bed, gasping; slapping at her alarm clock until it fell silent.

''_Merde_.'' She muttered, wiping a hand over her face and trying to calm her heart beat and breathing. Her body throbbed, she tried her best to ignore it and the dampness, lower down. She tossed back the covers, pausing to get her bearings before standing up. If this keeps up, she thought, turning the shower onto its coldest setting; I'm going to come down with pneumonia. That wasn't the only danger to her health, either. The school had become a veritable maze of accidents, she was lucky not to have needed the nurse, as yet.

Someone had altered the height of the steps, because she was constantly tripping over them (inside and out) and Doctor Kim really needed to get the courtyard looked at, because there were all kinds of loose tiles and huge cracks, just waiting to tumble Taylor to the ground. The lockers and doors were next on the list of necessary repairs; yanking themselves out of her hand to close, or popping suddenly open to smack her in the chest or back. She needed to see a medical doctor, as well as the dean (whose doctorate was in education science), because she was dropping things (lunch trays, books, coffee) so often no one let her carry anything anymore.

As great as it was that Ryan had gotten into Harbor, it was also _tres distrayant_.

Thankfully, they didn't have any classes together. **His** talents lay more in the math and sciences, **hers** in composition and linguistics. Numbers versus words, Seth had observed. She had to find something to distract that boy, his constant whining about missing the catfight between Marissa and Summer, was starting to get on everyone's nerves. It was too bad there wasn't a comic-book movie or anime scheduled for release, (or in production); that would've done the trick perfectly. Getting him onto lit mag had helped, a little; but **now** he was complaining that they wouldn't publish his (truthfully a tad juvenile) limericks. Sometimes she thought her boyfriend (!) was right, and the Cohens were saints; because there was no other explanation for why the other boy wasn't dead by now, or at least heavily medicated.

Lit mag was a good alternative for **her**, what with the void to be filled in her list of activities. There was no way she was going anywhere **near **social committee this year, to her mother's vast and vocal displeasure. She'd rather have to hear the constant lectures about **that**, though; then put herself in range of Marissa Cooper. That was a recipe for disaster, right there. Good thing last year's gym class had been such a blatant failure (she'd been the target for so many practical jokes, she qualified for the Guinness Book) that she wouldn't be required to repeat the torture this year. Glad as she was to be done with public showering, she was even happier not to be presenting such an available target.

At least she didn't have to worry about losing her place on the debate team (she had a good shot at captain), or in drama club (West Side Story, to start with, which was such a weird coincidence, considering), or in chess club (still couldn't get Ryan to join), or in the linguistics group (they were going to select their online pen-pals, this week). Joining comic club would've been fun, but Summer had advised her against it; claiming that the boys needed to have a girl-free zone to be guys in, like going to the mall was for the two of them.

She still found it hard to believe her friend had started a fight. Yes, the girl had a temper and was prone to rage blackouts; but punching someone? That was just so unlike Summer. She had to admit, if only to herself; that she was a little miffed to have missed it. Much as she liked to think she could've, would've, put a stop to it; she knew that, deep down, it was far too _satisfaire_ to know that the Cooper girl had **finally** gotten some comeuppance. It wasn't like the fight had all been about **her**, either; so she didn't have to feel guilty over the tiny bruise on Summer's cheek. She did anyway, but it was a guilt she could live with somewhat comfortably, a guilt that would, eventually, fade.

Unlike the feeling she got when Ryan gave his brother's girlfriend some tips about covering up said bruise.

**That **was going to haunt her, probably for months.

Seeing him at school: laughing with his brother or tapping his pencil as he did his homework; it was easy to forget that he had a whole past that didn't include things like regular meals or clean clothes or girlfriends.

Or being able to go home without fear of getting his face knocked in.

''Taylor!'' She jumped, hoping that the woman hadn't noticed her silent worrying. Veronica may be more attentive, these days; but she still tended to miss some things. ''Are you ready to go?'' Oh, good. Her mother was just rushing her out of the house. She must have a 'client' coming over, or something.

''Of course.'' Taylor swallowed the last of her orange juice, standing up. ''I'll be studying with Summer after school, at the library.'' She avoided mentioning Ryan as much as possible, even when he was going to be with her. There was less shouting that way. ''I'll be home by six, seven at the latest.'' Her curfew had been moved up to eight on weekdays, once school had started. On weekends, she'd been restricted to school-sponsored events** only**. Reasonable, barely; but the ache in her chest was starting to feel more like resentment and less like missing her friends.

''Actually, I was wondering if you could do a favor for a friend of mine.'' She blinked in surprise, instantly suspicious of the solicitous tone, the curl of a friendly smile on the woman's lips. ''Mrs. Stevens is in Washington with her husband, and her son's car is in the shop. I thought, since he was so kind in bringing home your things from that convention……''

''You want me to give Zach a ride to school.'' And if she refused, she'd have to go into the reasons why, starting a fight she didn't want to have. Resigned to the chore, she picked up her bag and smiled with false brightness at her mother. ''Of course. I'd be happy to. His house is right on the way there.'' She couldn't refuse, not without the risk of letting _la femme mauvaise _know she was onto her. Seth's theory about why she'd been allowed to go to Comicon in the first place was looking more and more likely, despite her earlier skepticism.

''That's my girl.'' She makes me sound like a bracelet or a well-trained poodle, Taylor fumed internally. 'My girl'. When has she **ever** claimed me, except when there was something in it for **her**? Her mother called out after her as she made her way to her car, wishing she knew how to stomp angrily. It would've been satisfying to express her irritation in** some** fashion. ''Don't worry about when you get home, I'm sure Zach can be trusted to remember that it's a school night.'' That tore it, that was really the _derniere paille_.

Taylor started the car so she wouldn't have to listen to anymore of that woman's hypocrisy. Like boys in Newport weren't just as bad, if not worse, than boys from Chino. At least the transitory and sex-based nature of relationships in Chino was due to the knowledge that neither partner was likely to have much of a future. Even if they managed to beat the odds and graduate high school, they were still unlikely to survive past their twenty-fifth birthday. The Cohen's hadn't spared their ward such a fate **specifically **for her, but she was still grateful. He was better than the guys he'd grown up with, better than (with the possible exception of Seth) the guys here. Boys in Newport seemed to think that having random, unsafe, constant sex with a rotating cast of girls was their right as heirs of privilege.

Jerks.

She wasn't going to let this little side-trip ruin her day, despite the bite it would take out of her pre-class Ryan-time. Ground rules would have to be set from the first, she decided. Summer had been right, she hadn't been firm enough in her previous rejection. Taylor had to remember that he was a water polo player, and therefore, per Seth; soulless. Her natural empathy and compassion would have to be quelled, her manner had to be completely frigid and resistant to whatever charms he might employ.

In short, she had to act as much like her mother as possible.

''Hey.'' He appeared sheepish as he climbed into her vehicle. She barely waited for him to close the door and belt in before shifting gears and taking off. ''So, I take it you're upset.'' She tried to give him the silent treatment, but her own conscience drove her to speak before they'd left his driveway.

''Why would I be upset?'' She asked brightly, her face a mask of civil, distant interest. ''You need a ride, our parents are friends……….how is that, again? I don't remember your family's name on our social calendar, no offense.'' They reached the school (her inner cheek was going to be sore from where she'd bit it, to keep from talking to him) before he spoke again, giving her a (so fake, but he was a decent actor) regretful smile.

''I know what this looks like. I swear, I had no idea that……..'' His false reassurances grated. She yanked the wheel, tires squealing as she maneuvered into a parking space. Normally, she would've yielded to the other student, so obviously waiting for the spot; but this morning, she was in no mood to be gracious or polite.

''You know what? Save it.'' She didn't want to hear his lame excuses, the scheming cover story he and Veronica had come up with. ''I've made my lack of interest in you as plain as I can. If you can't accept that, you're just going to have to live with the possibility of getting hurt.'' She turned the car off, climbing out with a sense of great relief.

''Wait a minute.'' He scrambled out as well, chasing after her, looking surprised at her swift pace.

She should've **known** he wouldn't give up that easy. He was on the debate team, after all. Chief competition for the captaincy. _Mon Dieu_, did her mother think that rivalry would **lead** to something? Was **that** why she'd picked him, out of all the boys at Harbor?

''Taylor…..'' Zach reached for her, pulling his hand back when she spun on him. Her face must've shown her lack of patience with his persistence, because he took a step backwards. Rallying himself, glancing towards where her friends were making their hasty way over; he hooked his thumbs into his pant's pockets and shrugged in what he apparently believed was an affable fashion. ''Threatening to have Atwood beat me up won't make me quit.''

''Who was talking about **him**?'' Ryan looked confused and angry when he panted up (first of the group to arrive); but he touched her elbow with gentle concern. Taylor ignored the thrill of his presence, glaring hazel ire up at the boy who towered over them all, even Seth. ''If you cross the line, mister; **I'll** kick your _derriere desole_ for you. I** do** have a black belt, you know.'' She turned towards her out-of-breath friends, planting a kiss on the shorter blonde boy's cheek, taking his arm to make her point **absolutely** clear. ''So, how did try-outs go? You never said.''

''Coach is posting the list this morning.'' Her _ami_ didn't appear as willing to pretend her mother's choice of suitors didn't exist, but Summer was thankfully more savvy about this kind of thing.

''Let's check before homeroom, 'kay, Chino? The suspense is killing Cohen.'' The brunette poked her guy in the side, breaking the glare he was aiming at the unwelcome fifth teen and cluing him in that they needed a distraction.

''Right. Couldn't sleep a wink, I was so excited. Y'know, Dad made me promise to call if you made it. Give him time to order the cake and all. You like chocolate, right?'' The group started moving (including, unfortunately, the unwanted presence behind them), making their way towards the athletic building.

''Seth…….'' His reluctance was probably due to their silent audience of one rather than true shyness. Of course, with Ryan, one was never **too** sure what he was thinking and feeling. Even if one asked, there was no guarantee the answer would be anything but the endless variations the boy had for the word 'fine'.

''Dude, there is no way you can turn down chocolate cake. That's just ………wrong.'' His brother's waving towards the group of students clustered around the side of the building, where the team list was posted, seemed a little frantic. Taylor noticed the darkening of the other girl's eyes with concern, glancing around for some distraction or, failing that; some way to force the focus of Summer's impending rage blackout to leave. ''Hey, here comes _mi Amigo_ now. We can get the 411 without having to brave the crowd.'' Turning her head back to where the boys were looking, she saw Luke coming towards them with a surprising sense of relief. If he could help defuse this situation, she'd forgive his previous lack of good judgment.

''Hey, Atwood.'' She had to relinquish her grip on his arm to allow him to shake hands (or whatever that was) with the captain of the soccer team. The former bully smiled at her in a friendly fashion, nodding towards the two brunettes. He frowned when his gaze landed on the boy just behind the four he counted as friends. ''Stevens. How's it going?''

''Good. Tay gave me a ride this morning.'' Ryan wasn't the only one to clench his fist in reaction to the double meaning behind the words, the use of her nickname by someone who wasn't him and wasn't a girl. Summer spun around, opening her mouth to (no doubt) let the guy have it verbally. She pressed her foot softly on top of the other's Manolos, shaking her head imperceptibly. Another fight (physical or not) would **not** be good for her friend's record. They all needed to calm down a little, despite the blatant provocation. ''My car's down for the count. Tay saved me.'' His smile was fond, like she hadn't spurned him at every opportunity, the _singe bête._

''That's cool.'' Luke's eyes were flicking with concern over the group, whatever else he was about to say interrupted by a hard, uncompromising voice. A voice she was used to hearing as tender and kind; the alteration as chilling as it was strangely exciting.

''**You** don't call her 'Tay'.'' All gazes snapped to the stocky boy, glaring pugnaciously up at the much taller but just as muscular teen. Whispering started around her, and she gritted her jaw at the excited murmuring about the potential for a fight. ''Only her **friends** get to call her that.'' 'Only I do' his face said, his body language hostile and possessive. You shouldn't be thrilled by this, she scolded herself. This is **not** a good thing.

''Isn't that for her to say?'' There had to be a limit to that arrogance, didn't there? Did he really think that pushing Ryan into a fight would endear him to her? Wait…….. Ryan, fighting……… Any pleasure she'd taken from this evidence of her boyfriend's jealousy vanished in horror as she caught on to what she thought Zach was doing. Neither boys' records would be helped by fighting , but Ryan………..

Ryan had a lot more to lose.

''You can't fight.'' Taylor stepped between them, pushing her guy determinedly away from the other. ''Your case worker wouldn't like it.'' She murmured softly, seeing the realization of what he'd **truly** be risking flash like terror across his vibrant blue eyes. ''There's nothing to fight **about,** anyway.'' She turned around, staying between the two boys; placing herself so close to her guy she could feel his breath on her neck, the heat of his body on her back. ''There's only a rivalry if I'm interested in you **both**, and I'm not.''

''So blow, loser.'' Summer snapped, yanking her arm free of Seth's pathetic attempt at a restraining grip. Ah, well. At least he'd tried. ''Do us all a favor and get lost.'' Her female friend's anger was a towering volcano, only emphasizing Ryan's frighteningly cold (and hot, he was so _**hot**_) demeanor.

''Permanently.'' His brother added from the safety of his position on the other side of the irritated-looking Luke. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, but he was still there. She knew, if she needed someone to fetch help (_madre de dios_, please don't let it come to that), she'd have to try and get Summer or Luke to go. Seth would no more leave her boyfriend to fend for himself than he could walk on water.

''You must be pretty worried.'' Zach was still addressing Ryan, she felt his body tense behind her. She reached back with one hand, laid it gently on his arm. He was trembling, a little; the limb like corded steel under her fingers. ''She was going to find out sooner or later, why not tell her now?''

''If you're talking about the thing with Marissa; **dude**…….'' Luke started, appearing even more ticked off by his team mate. She couldn't blame him. It had to be humiliating to admit that the girl you'd been dating for _**years**_ had made a play for a guy _right in front of you_, had been calling out **his** name during an intimate moment. Class, she thought drily, thy name is **not** Marissa Cooper.

''Not that, though it does kind of prove my point.'' Harbor's most eligible bachelor shrugged, given her a look of (false, had to be) concern. ''He wants you for your body, Tay.'' The arm under her palm twitched, she actually heard Ryan growl, low in his throat, at the taller boy using, again; a term of affection he'd claimed for his own. ''There's more to you than that, and you know it.''

''Obviously, I didn't make myself clear.'' She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring and giving every impression she was dealing with an intellectually-challenged five-year-old. Which, of course, emotionally speaking; she **was**. ''I. Am. Not. Interested. In. You.'' Taylor cut each word short, clipping her tone just barely this side of civil. ''I can give it to you in French: _Je ne suis pas interesse par vous_ ; or Spanish: _No estoy interesado en usted_ ; take your pick.'' She would've thrown in Korean, as well; but she wasn't as confident about the correctness of her pronunciation with that one. Tonal languages were **tough**.

''So prove me wrong.'' The bell rang, dispersing the gathered students, muttering in their disappointment that there would be no brawl to feed their desire for scandal. ''**Ask** him. See what he says.'' She stiffened, hazel eyes narrowing, trying to see the trap. The boy smiled at her, confident in his assumed (inaccurate) superiority. ''See you after school.''

'' _Pendejo_ .'' Taylor turned to face her guy, intending to agree with his observation, if not his use of profanity. The look of fear on his face, eyes flicking briefly after Zach; stopped the words in her throat. It wasn't **possible** that the Stevens boy was right.

Was it?


	10. Ten

**A/N: **An intermission to deal with the adult stuff. Couldn't get this scene out of my head, and this was the best place to put it.

Back to teen drama next chap, promise.

--xxx—

''Hey, Kirsten.'' The shaggy dark head that poked into her office was a surprise, but a very pleasant one.

''Sandy!'' Kirsten came around her desk, giving her husband a kiss and a brief hug before letting a frown cross her features. ''Were we meeting for lunch?'' She hoped she hadn't forgotten something that important. Not that she didn't see him at home; but the times they could arrange their schedules (and his time at the PD's office was** tight**) to meet for lunch felt…….special. Like when they'd first been dating, and had to keep it low-key so her father wouldn't have an apoplexy.

''No, actually; your_ father_ asked me to come.'' He shrugged at her confused look, The two men had been getting along very well; ever since Ryan's recent hospital visit. It probably had something to do with the nurse's expression of thanks for the way Caleb had dealt with the first doctor. She'd heard about it and was livid, but Sandy had wanted a play-by-play. That's what I get for marrying a lawyer, she told herself, not quite seriously. ''I know, **weird**. I'm starting to think Seth's right, and Newport's being invaded by pod people. Have you checked the closets here?''

''I hear sarcasm, the Sandman must be here.'' Her father strode into her office, motioning for the cafeteria staff to set the Styrofoam containers and drinks on the table. ''Hello, Kiki.''

''Dad.'' She accepted the peck on her cheek, knowing it would be useless to try and get him to talk before he was ready. ''This is a nice surprise.''

''Good.'' He held out the chair for her, but yielded the seat next to hers to her husband. He'd been doing that a lot, lately; making his approval of the man she'd married obvious. It's only taken him eighteen years, she mused wryly. They all sat down; she was touched to see that both hers and Sandy's were meals they each favored. And she'd thought he didn't notice things like that. He returned her smile as they all dug in, obviously waiting for the click of the door closing behind the staff before he started speaking. ''I have some things to tell you, both of you. Things I need your help with.''

''Our help?'' Kirsten was worried. This was her father, her powerfully connected father. If he needed help…….. She reached out and took her husband's hand, trembling when the older man reached into his inner coat pocket and placed a bottle of prescription pills on the table. The man to her right raised his fuzzy eyebrows, picking it up to read the label.

''Digoxin.'' Sandy set the pills back down, squeezing her hand soothingly. ''To regulate the rhythm?''

''That's right.'' Her father put the pills back in his pocket, and she noticed that he was having a salad with a glass of tea for lunch; instead of his usual club sandwich with a drink of some kind. ''When I got to the hospital, I noticed that my chest felt tight. That private conference with our family doctor, Kiki; was more for me than for Ryan.'' She nodded fearfully, waiting to hear the news that she was about to lose her father. She blinked rapidly, poking at her suddenly unappetizing luncheon. ''It's an arrhythmia. My heart beats at an unsteady pattern. There's no blockage, my cholesterol is good. They don't want to start me on nitrates until they absolutely **have** to, so these pills are it; for now.'' Wait, that didn't sound like bad news. In sounded, in fact, like he was saying the problem wasn't serious. His palm laid over her free hand, drawing her gaze upwards. ''Stress, honey. It's due to stress. They're saying they caught it in plenty of time, but they want me to watch my diet; and practically **demanded** that I reduce my stress-levels.''

''Meaning you'll be giving Kirsten more work?'' On one hand, she appreciated his support of not overloading her already-hectic schedule. On the other…….. if her father really** needed** the help……….

''Meaning I'll be making alterations to the company, and wanted to give Kiki a heads-up.'' Caleb took a sip of his tea, appearing nervous. That could've just been the beverage he'd been reduced to; but she got the feeling that the day's revelations weren't finished. She closed the lid of her container, not feeling very hungry anymore. ''You too, Sandford.'' When her father got her husband's name correct, she paid attention. That was one of his signals for serious business; the way he dropped the nicknames and addressed people a trifle more formally than his usual laid-back manner.

''Dad?'' He gave her a smile, but he looked guilty as hell about it.

''I have to do this, Kirsten.'' Oh Shit. She thought it'd been bad when he called **Sandy** by his first name. Hearing her own name shouldn't make her panic like this, she thought wildly. This had to be bad. ''I nearly lost you because I lashed out in fear. I won't lose you from greed.'' He began to tell her about all he'd done with his business, the shady deals and questionable practices. He kept it to recent events, but he admitted that there'd been past actions he was sure the District Attorney would be eager to hear about. ''Sean's retiring. I've set him up with a nice little trust fund in South Beach, Florida. Sun, beaches, booze, and a very lax dress code. That's what he wanted.'' He packed up the remnants of his lunch, avoiding her glare.

''You're a criminal.'' She saw him flinch and gentled her tone a little. He was coming clean now, so what was the point of haranguing him about it? Satisfying as it would be, there was more to be considered than paying him back for making her part of a criminal enterprise.

''Is Kirsten compromised? You haven't mentioned any of the residential projects.'' Trust Sandy to ask what she didn't dare to, what part of her didn't want to learn. They had to know, though. Ignorance, in this case, was by no means bliss.

''Of course not!'' Her father's instant denial was genuine, she could tell that much. He appeared outraged, and only her concern for the state of his heart kept her from escalating the situation with arguments and accusations. ''I've always left the residential for Kiki to run. It's the only part of the company that has any artistic freedom.''

''Oh, Dad.'' She wouldn't cry, she told herself. She hadn't known that was the reason. She'd thought it was because he didn't think that part of The Newport Group was important, **not** because he was trying to make up for her having to give up her plans to open her own art gallery. Plans, she admitted to herself; that had been more along the lines of alleviating boredom than what she **really** wanted.

''I need your help, the both of you, to restructure The Newport Group into something more ethical and, lets say it, **legal**.'' He folded his hands together, leaning forward as he did when he was making strong points. ''I've hired Jimmie Cooper to 'do an audit', covering our reorg. I'll just say I'm setting a thief to catch a thief, if anyone has the guts to question it.. Hell, we might even uncover some poor slob in accounting who's actually embezzling funds.''

''You hired Jimmie?!'' Kirsten didn't know which news was more surreal: her father's heart problems, the illegality of their company, or the hiring of her ex. ''Why? I mean, he's got the skills; but…….'' But she didn't want him around. After Marissa's involvement in what had happened to Ryan, she didn't want to see **anyone** from the Cooper family.

She was too afraid of what she might wind up saying.

''Veronica offered him a position to coerce the Cooper girl. I hire him, and that takes one of her pawns away from her.'' Now he was leaning back and smiling, the pose of a man who'd solved a tricky problem with style. She had to admit, she wished she'd thought of it. Marissa had always been close to her father, closer than she was to Julie, certainly. It was a good fix to the problem; but ……

''What happens when the audit is over?'' Sandy still wasn't trusting this version of his father-in-law, she saw. Not that she blamed him, really. He'd just proven how sneaky he could be, when he wanted; confessing to all these schemes and plans she'd had no idea he was up to, let alone even capable of. No wonder he's so good at countering Veronica, she thought sourly. They're two of a kind.

Only her father had changed, that was become more and more blatantly obvious as time went by.

''Why, I keep him on, of course.'' Caleb looked surprised, then shook his head. ''Right, well. I suppose it is a little shocking, the way I've changed. But I **had** to.'' He was looking at her, his face filled with a desperate longing. ''You're all the family I have, and I nearly lost you. I could lose you still. If I have to become Sister Mary Sunshine to keep you, Kiki, then I will.''

''Will you stop calling me 'Kiki'?'' She teased, trying to lessen the tension a bit. He snorted, picking up one of her hands and planting a brief kiss on her knuckles.

''No. It drives you nuts, and that's always fun.''

''Dad!'' Her protest was nearly drowned out by her husband's (the traitor) laughter. ''Sandy!''

''Sorry, honey.'' He didn't look sorry. She narrowed her eyes at him, letting him know that his amusement at her expense had the potential to make him** very** sorry, indeed. The couch in the living room was not nearly as comfortable as it looked. He became instantly serious. ''So, you've brokered a deal with Marissa. What's Julie think of all this?''

''It was actually **her** idea.'' He smiled again, making her suddenly, for some reason; nervous. ''They're still getting divorced, but she won't challenge custody. Once James earns his first paycheck, the girl should be able to move in with her father.''

''And out of Ryan's life.'' Sandy nodded firmly, very serious now. She'd never heard him use words (about a female) like the ones he'd used to describe the Cooper girl, the night they'd brought Ryan home. It had been hard to quiet him down when she agreed with every single one. ''Nice one, Cal.''

''Thank you, Sandy.'' The two men clicked their drinks together, satisfied in their arrangement of matters. She shifted in her seat, not wanting to bring up a protest to this situation. But if she had to come to work everyday, deal with the man she'd almost married defending his daughter's actions……. ''He won't be working with you, Kiki. I wouldn't put you **or** the Sandman through that. He'll answer to me, not to worry.'' It was uncanny, the way her father could sometimes read her mind. Made them a force to be reckoned with in the boardroom, though. ''Damn.'' Caleb pulled his cell phone out, frowning at the display. ''Now why would……..''

''Dad? Who is it?'' He held up a finger, flipping the device open.

''Summer? Is everything all right? Is Seth…….?'' Her heart froze, thinking of all the reasons why the girl would be calling her father. Nothing's happened to the boys, she told herself. The school would've called you. Or Sandy. She shot a look towards her husband and got a head-shake, his eyes fixed on his father-in-law. His phone wasn't going off, then. She relaxed a little. Nothing to worry about, she repeated over and over. Everything's fine. ''Yes, I see…………. No, your friend's got the right idea. ………..Just try and act like he's not even a problem. ………..No, not without creating more trouble. The man **is** a senator, and it wouldn't look……..Right. Exactly………. Thanks for the update, then.'' He closed the cell, gaze distant in contemplation of whatever news he'd received. Knowing that the boys were okay (his tone would've been sharper if they weren't) was good. What could be going on that had Summer calling her father in the middle of the day? How did she even get his number, anyway? She ran the half-conversation through her head and thought she had it.

''What is Zach up to?'' Kirsten smiled at the shock on the faces of the two men: her husband not making the connection and her father startled because she **had**. She took a sip of her (now-watery soda), waiting.

''Somehow, _**Taylor**_ is now his transportation to and from school.''

''Subtle, that woman isn't.'' Sandy groaned, rubbing his head. She got the feeling that he would've liked to say a lot more about the bane of their ward's existence, but was restraining himself out of sheer stubborn civility.

''What **I** can't figure is why the girl's doing it.'' The older man frowned at the table, rotating his phone in his hands. ''She's **got** to know it's a set-up.''

''It takes a lot to go against your parents.'' She murmured, catching his startled blue eyes with a sad shrug, remembering when she'd been at odds with him over her choice of mates. ''Even when they're……….less than acceptable.'' She had a great deal of respect for her boys' father, all of a sudden. It had been harder than she would've thought possible to **not** use the words pushing at the front of her mind Words her family would no doubt be startled to realize she even **knew**. ''And Taylor has no where else to go.'' Something about that made her father frown, but her husband was speaking.

''Veronica had better watch her step. I swear, one more **toe** out of line; and I don't **care** if we have testimony or not: I'm making a call to Child Services.''

''Let's cross that bridge when we come to it, shall we?'' Caleb stood, the luncheon apparently over now. He walked around her still irate soul mate and kissed her cheek once more. ''Don't worry, Sunshine.'' The old pet name, unheard since she'd turned twelve, made her smile fondly. ''I'm not putting my affairs in order. I'm just having the mid-life crises a little late, is all'' The last of her fears eased at his teasing. If things were as dire as when her mother had taken ill; he wouldn't be in any mood to tease. He wouldn't be in any mood for anything but anger, really. That he could joke, take an interest in her sons' lives………

''I love you, Dad.'' Just in case she was wrong, she didn't want him not to hear it, not to know. He looked a little stunned, but he wrapped his arms around her and hugged tight.

''Love you……'' He patted her back soothingly, clapped Sandy on the shoulder, and made one last shot as he left. ''…..Kiki.''

''Sorry, honey.'' His laughter cut off when she glared at him, he stood to kiss her other cheek. ''It's just……the look on your face…...'' He smiled at her, shrugging at his inability to resist teasing her.

''I suppose it's too much to hope for that he'd change completely.'' She sighed, shaking her head. Now that the discussion was over, she was starving. She put her lunch on her desk, preparing to eat while she resumed her duties. ''Do you really think we can pull off this …….salvage?'' The Newport Group was in trouble, she'd gotten that from the way her father talked about the accounting department, the desperation behind some of his recent ploys.

''Of course we can.'' That wasn't false bravado, or an attempt to comfort his wife. It can't be arrogance, she reminded herself, if it's true. She had to spend the next little while reminded herself why she loved her husband, though. ''See you at home.'' He gave her a devil's grin from the door. She seriously considered throwing a paperweight after him. ''Kiki.''


	11. Eleven

**A/N: **This chapter is for all the Luke fans out there.

Oh, yeah; and there's a touch of Taylor/Ryan, too. VEG

--xxx—

''…….well, I'm sorry; but I have to go fix my play about _stupid __**romance**_!''

''Taylor………**Tay**!''

Luke turned to look, a heartbeat behind the rest of the teens in the hallway.

Ryan was standing halfway down the hall, glaring at the door to the girl's bathroom, one fist on the wall; having apparently just impacted the fake-brick. The guy's knuckles were white and the taller boy would bet** huge** that he wasn't aware of his audience. Seeing the way his fellow students were glancing at each other, knowing what kind of things they'd be likely to say; once they got the guts to speak……

As one of The Three Amigos (on probation, Seth had informed him, but **still** a member); he had to do something. And even if he wasn't, he still should help.

That's what friends did, right?

''Hey, man.'' Glaring a warning at the whispering and snickering crowd, he made sure not to flinch when the shorter boy whirled on him. There was as much fear as anger in the other's face, hidden when he ducked his head and shrugged, like nothing was going on. Never play poker with this guy, Luke thought to himself. If I hadn't caught that flash when he turned, I'd think he wasn't upset at all.

''Luke.'' The other boy shifted his feet, sending a desperate look towards the door with the pink silhouette on it. ''How's it going?'' Uh-oh. He got the sinking feeling that his friend intended to stand there (all day if need be) until Townsend came out.

''She's not gonna come out.'' He shrugged at the dirty look he got. It was no use to pretend he hadn't heard, not with the crowd still not-very-discreetly watching them. The fight (he'd pissed off enough girls to recognize a fight, even from the little he'd heard) would be all over school by last bell, with plenty of extras added on. A sympathetic ear was the best thing in the world for his friend, especially if he was meeting Seth (and his rage-blackout love-interest) for lunch. ''Long as you're here, she'll stay in there. Give her some time to cool off, calm down.'' From the way Atwood nodded, he wasn't the only one with experience pissing girls off.

The two boys walked in silent commiseration to the cafeteria, ignoring the whispers and snickering as they gathered their food. Luke was ashamed at the relief he felt at his friend being (obviously, from the way everyone was pointing and staring) better gossip material. He couldn't help it, though. He'd been dreading the crap he'd take from his friends (his** other** friends) over the whole Marissa-thing. They seemed to think the kid from Chino dating the dreaded Veronica Townsend's daughter, however; was much more interesting. The things he'd heard, that morning ……….It had been a good thing the face-off with Zach had taken up all their pre-class time. He didn't want to think about what would've happened if his new soccer teammate had gotten an earful of what was going around about **why** Taylor was with him.

''Chino!'' Thankfully, they'd already set their trays down on the table, where they were going to wait for the others, when Summer's voice cut across all other conversation. There was an expectant, heavy silence (several girls were frantically texting their friends, the skanks) as the tiny brunette stalked across the patio, trailed miserably by her scrawny …..boyfriend? He'd have to ask.

Later, when the girl didn't have murder in her eyes.

''Romance is_ stupid_?!'' There were not-very-well muffled chuckling, silenced by the glare she shot around the room. Her hands were planted firmly on her hips, his friend's only hope lay in the fact that they weren't yet fisted. ''You told Tay romance is _**stupid**_?!''

''No.'' With an impressive lack of fear, Ryan sat casually down (the crowd gasped) and started opening his lunch (his brother's girl narrowed her eyes). ''I said the **play** was stupid.''

''Oh.'' Thrown off her anger, the girl sat down next to the kid from Chino, causing a sigh of disappointment to pass through the crowd at the averted fight/beating. Luke sat down in unison with Seth, trading a 'we got lucky' glance as they did so. ''Tay's not completely crazy, though. You **had** to have said something else.'' The shorter boy shrugged, Luke flinched and debated how discreetly he could move his chair out of range of the sharp feet of the girl across from him. Seth didn't bother with such considerations, his seat squealing as it was shifted back a few inches. ''C'mon, Chino, give. We can't fix it if you don't 'fess up.''

''I didn't say anything.'' He sounded confused more than defensive, and Luke was hard-pressed not to tell the girl to back off. He'd had enough experience with the wacked 'logic' the female of the species utilized to know that there was a chance Townsend was seriously over-reacting.

''Maybe that's the problem.'' Seth leaned forward, ignoring the dark look from his girl in his blatant concern for his brother. ''With the Zach-attack this morning, you've got to do something to reassure her. Something like the wrist cuff, or the DVD, or the holding of chairs……''

''Cohen's right.'' Summer nodded at the guy, mood restored to good humor. Good. Now he could eat his lunch without fear of her going off on them all.

''I can't.'' A tiny fist slammed into the table, making two of the three boys jump. Admirable as the other's calm was, Luke really wished he'd show some reaction; a wish he wanted to take back when the tortured eyes looked up from the food. ''Anything I say **now** won't be enough.''

''You can tell her how pretty she is or…..'' Seth trailed off as the realization that his brother had already reached traveled around the group. Any compliment given to her physical aspects, at this point, would be proving Stephens right. Ryan needed to say something else, something about how he felt, about…….

Yeah, he was starting to see the problem.

Kinda hard to win the lady over when the guy barely spoke.

The four teens turned their attention back to their lunch, Summer taking a brief pause for a 'vital' phone call. Luke frowned as he chewed, trying to think of some way they could convince Zach to back off** without** punching him. He kept getting distracted with the thought of how satisfying it would **be**, to punch the guy; something his therapist (and his parents) would no doubt disapprove of.

''Cal can't help.'' The female dynamo slumped into her seat, toying with the remains of her meal. ''He says that since Zach's dad is a senator; he can't approach him without looking like he's offering a bribe.'' She snapped her gaze up to Atwood, the irritation within it making Luke glad, once again, that he'd never tried to hook up with the little dynamo. And, once again, he was filled with as much admiration for Cohen as he was fear from the object of the guy's desire. ''Chino, you** have** to have done something. Tay wouldn't just…….''

''She was talking about this play: _West Side Story_. She wanted to know what I thought about it.'' He shrugged, crumpling his napkin. ''I told her.''

''Jeezus, Atwood.'' How had the guy gotten into Harbor with dumbass moves like that? He may be a jock (and therefore, per Cohen, a Neanderthal), but he knew better than to tell a girl that romantic shit like that was 'stupid'. Especially since …''She probably equates that play with the two of you, your relationship. Nice going.'' Retard, he wanted to add.

''Smooth move, Chino.'' Summer's tone made the nickname into a pseudonym for 'idiot', 'moron', and 'knuckledrager'.

''A play about racism where street gangs are engaged in a turf war where the climax involves attempted rape and murder?'' Ryan scowled at them all, crossing his arms over his chest with all appearance of irritated moral superiority. ''Yeah, it just screams 'us'.'' Cohen was starting to rub off on the guy, it was blatantly obvious from the sarcasm that dripped from every single word.

''It's based on _Romeo and Juliet_, the most romantic……'' The shorter boy exploded at her, making Luke wish there was a bunker for him and Seth to duck into. Yelling at the girl was no way to fix your situation, he wanted to warn his friend. It's just a sure-fire way to get a free pass to the nurse.

''Romeo and Juliet were spoiled brats who could've spared everyone a lot of pain and stopped the bloodshed if they'd just taken some responsibility and come clean about the marriage.'' Braced for the inevitable violent retaliation, he saw the curly waves of hair tilt sideways; considering.

''I've never really seen it like that.'' Summer murmured, obviously deep in thought. Relaxing minutely, Luke saw Seth breath a deep sigh of relief and reach a shaking hand for his soda. He felt like a drink, himself; just something a little more soothing than a cola. If the occasional flare of irritated longing was anything like what Marissa had gone through, trying to quit, he could almost forgive her subsequent actions.

Almost.

''Okay, dude, don't worry about it. I've got the perfect plan. We invite her over to watch some chick flick that **is** romantic and……..'' Ah, man. The former bully cleared his throat, interrupting his friend's scheming. He hated to do this, the timing really sucked; but ……..

''He can't tonight.'' He shook his head at the annoyed glances from the two brunettes, the confused exasperation from the other blonde. ''First soccer practice of the season, Coach takes us all out after for dinner and 'bonding'.'' And initiation, but the non-team members didn't need to know about **that**. Bells signaled the end of the lunch break, pulling the students from their seats. The four headed for their next classes, tossing their refuse as they went.

''Give me a message for her, then. Explain why you'll be busy, apologize; whatever.'' Summer paused expectantly, Ryan shuffled his feet. ''Damnit, Chino; I know you're vocally challenged, but you seriously need to say something here.''

''I'm not good with words.'' It was mumbled to the guy's sneakers, the snorted agreement on the girl's part drawing the gaze back up. ''I'm thinking, okay?''

''They don't necessarily have to be **your** words.'' Cohen flinched from the obsidian glare, but kept doggedly on. ''You recognized _Don Quixote_, you know _West Side Story_ and _Romero and Juliet_. **Quote** something. Even out of context, it'll beat…..'' The scrawny boy shot a victorious smile around the group as his brother scrambled suddenly into his bag. Writing quickly, the boy tore off the page and handed it to Summer.

''Good Chino.'' She frowned down at the paper, and Luke began walking again, hoping to get to his next class before whatever had been written set her off again. Maybe I should recommend that she see a therapist, too; he thought, wincing at the way **that **conversation was likely to go. She's got as many anger issues as I do. Yeah, his conscience remarked snidely, but **she** hasn't almost killed someone. '' 'Cinderella. Number twenty-nine, by W.S. Sleeping Beauty'. Okay, what the hell? I don't get it.''

''Tay will.'' Ryan escaped into his next class with a smug smile, making Luke once more envy the lack of fear the guy had in regards to the most terrifying girl in school.

He ducked into his own class with a shrug, feeling no shame at abandoning Cohen to the little dynamo's mercy, or lack thereof.

If the guy was seriously going to date her, he'd have to learn to deal with her rages all on his own.

--xxx—

''All right, gather 'round.'' Coach Thompson stood at the end of the row of lockers, trash-bag in his hand. Luke shrugged at Atwood's curious look, nodding towards the adult. The rest of the team had already gathered, the veterans nudging each other with sly, knowing glances. ''A team isn't just a bunch of guys wearing the same jersey, or thinking they're on the same side because they go to the same school. A team is **knowing** that the guy next to you has your back, is willing to go the distance, to do **whatever** it takes.'' He felt his friend suddenly tense next to him. What was that about? He focused back on the coach, shaking off a weird feeling that this wasn't going to go as smoothly as it had, last year. ''We're going on a little night exercise, gentleman. **Everyone** takes a roll, and then we'll see about 'decorating' the house for the coach of those Pacific losers.''

Smiles and snickering accompanied the first few team members forward, the others calming down as they stepped up to pull their own rolls of toilet paper from the bag. Ryan got tenser the closer they got to the bag until, finally, it was his turn. The muttering that started when he stepped up grew progressively louder the longer he hesitated. Luke could see the stiff set to the guy's neck and shoulders, the knuckles white in his fists. As the insults and derisive comments grew louder, his friend raised his gaze to look Coach Thompson in the face.

''I can't.'' The team went quiet, sickening in their eagerness for the adult to unload on the 'rookie'.

''Take a roll, Atwood.'' Coach rustled the bag, something besides impatient expectation in his eyes. For the first time, he resented the man; and started to question what this initiation was really all about.

''I can't.'' The boy repeated, sending a desperate glance over his shoulder to Luke; who realized suddenly what the problem was.

''Your record.'' His startled comment was lost among the calls of 'wussy' and remarks about how a kid from Chino ought not to be such a 'pansy'. Ryan didn't react to a single one, nor to the shoves he received as he made his way towards the door.

''Everyone on the team has to participate, Atwood; or it's not a valid exercise.'' His friend paused in the doorway, locking eyes with the older man briefly. Luke felt a surge of respect at the shorter blonde's exiting words.

''Then I guess I'm not on the team.''

He scowled at the jeers and victorious yells of his teammates. It had obviously never occurred to any of them, even the ones who had been 'arrested' as part of last year's exercise; that maybe a kid with a juvenile record would have a problem with committing vandalism. The remaining two rolls loomed large in the bag in front of him as he weighed his options, the room growing quiet as he paused. When he grabbed one side of the bag, they sighed in relief; sighs that turned to confused shouts as he jerked the plastic from the Coach's hands and tossed it aside.

''This is stupid.''

''Pick that back up, Ward; you're team captain.'' That weird look was in the man's eyes again. What was up with the guy? Did he get off on pushing kids around? He'd never noticed any such tendencies **last** year but then, he wasn't the same guy he was** last** year.

''Yeah, Ward; don't be such a queer.'' Derrick, predictably enough. Maybe Townsend was right about that guy. All he seemed to talk about (all his insults had basis in) was homosexuality. He resolved not to shower too close to the guy from now on.

''Give me a break, Chandler; and try giving yourself one, as well.'' He turned a questioning glare to the Coach, wondering why the man looked so smug and satisfied. ''What are we proving with this? That we don't have respect for other people's property? That we think we're above the rules?'' He shook his head, kicking the bag and wishing he'd gotten the guts to say something before Atwood was run off the team.

''It's just a prank, Ward.'' Lane didn't look or sound as sure as his words; some of the others were glancing down at the rolls in their hand with nervous expressions.

''It's **wrong**.'' He spoke with utter conviction, watching his fellow team members closely. Many of them looked uncertain, like they'd toss the rolls, given half the chance and the surety of their places on the team. ''We don't have to break the rules, or be **willing** to break the rules; to beat the guys from Pacific, or North-Western, or anywhere else.'' The first roll bounced a bit as it hit the bag on the floor and he gave Coach Thompson a victorious smile. The man actually appeared happy to be so blatantly defied.

''I dunno…….'' Chip Sanders wasn't the only veteran hesitating. The guy tossed his roll from hand to hand, frowning doubtfully.

''You're better than this, man.'' Luke looked up at the rest of them, putting belief into his tone and expression. If he could win them over, he could get Atwood back. Aside from being a true friend (truer than** these** jerks), the guy was a fantastic striker. The team needed him, and the team (not the somewhat lame individuals on it) is what he addressed his final three words to. ''We all are.''


	12. Twelve

**A/N: **Thanks to all my lovely reviewers. You guys make me feel so loved!

Welcome back to Angel4Patriots! We missed you!

--xxx—

''Hey, kid.'' Ryan glanced up from pulling on his over-shirt, surprised to see his guardian waiting for him. He'd been expecting Seth to be there when he came out of the bathroom; just like every single morning since he'd moved in.

''Hey.'' He tried to calm his stomach, telling himself that the man couldn't **know** what had almost happened last night. It was only his own nervousness that made him think the steady grey gaze was at all suspicious.

''Your Coach is in the kitchen.'' Shit, he thought; gut clenching. There goes breakfast. After last night's confrontation, he'd been wound too tight to eat; thinking of all the things that the Coach (or, more likely, the** team**) could do to retaliate for his bailing on their 'initiation'. Hoping to avoid the scenarios he'd come up with was only **one** of the reasons he hadn't given the cops a head's up about the incipient vandalism. Now it looked like he was gonna pay the price for being responsible. No good deed goes unpunished, as the saying went. It appeared that passing on a bad deed had it's own dire consequences as well. ''He says he wants to talk to both of us.'' He swallowed and nodded, grabbing his bag in a hand whose fingers felt stiff and numb. As he was walking past Sandy, the lawyer put a hand on his shoulder; halting him. ''Something you want to say before we go in?'' He shook his head, not trusting his voice to speak.

They proceeded across the patio, the gentle palm on his back apparently meant to be soothing; but it only felt like the guards, from Juvie, walking him along. Seth was talking his usual mile-a-minute, entertaining the balding man with stories about Luke's pathetic lack of skateboarding talent. Thompson appeared to be in a good mood, he even smiled at the blonde boy; just as if he hadn't tossed him off the team the night before. Ryan poured himself a much-needed cup of coffee, taking the stool next to his brother's; avoiding everyone's eyes.

''So what was it you wanted to talk about?'' Sandy's presence behind him made him stiffen automatically, before his brain reminded him that having an adult standing so close wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Especially **this** adult. ''Little early for pass/play status, isn't it?'' His gut tightened another notch, wondering if **that**, rather than the face-off last night; was what the guy was doing here. It was only the first week of school; but it **was** a Friday, and this** was** a tougher school (academically speaking) then Chino Hills could ever hope to be.

''I've been a Coach for nearly fifteen years, ten of those as head coach at Harbor. Every year, I've taken the team on an initiation exercise; designed to prove that they can rely on each other, that the actions of **one** have consequences for all.'' Thompson's smile faltered as the blank stares from the two Cohens showed that they didn't have any idea what he was talking about. ''Basically, we t.p. the rival coach's house, or their practice field.'' Ryan hunched into his seat, his guardian's hands settling onto his shoulders. He hadn't **done** anything, but would his protests of innocence be believed if this guy said that he **had**? ''Every year, I end up calling on some friends in the police force to teach the boys a lesson with a little mock-arrest.'' Well, now he was** really** glad that he'd taken a pass on the 'fun' last night. He just hoped Luke hadn't gotten in any more trouble with his parents. Guy deserved a break, after the humiliating catastrophe of the Marissa break-up. ''Every year, I should say; except **this** year.'' Now the man's smile was blinding, looking from one to the other of the trio expectantly.

''What is this all about?'' Sandy's voice was calm, but the impatience in it was staggering. If the tone had been any sharper, he could class it as 'biting the guy's head off'. ''Are you implying that Ryan participated in this …….activity? Because he was home pretty early, almost as soon as practice was over; and _stayed_ home for the rest of the night.'' As his alibi was provided, he saw a flick of uncertainty in the other man's eyes. He had to blink back emotion in his own, touched that his word (his actions, rather) would be taken over the testimony of a school official.

''Yeah, and if one of your witnesses is Zach Stephens; you should probably be aware…….'' He kicked his brother, sending him a warning glance out of the corner of his eyes. He appreciated the attempt, but they really didn't need to get into **that**. That was _private_, for him to deal with (or not) as seemed best for keeping Taylor's interest.

''No, that's not…….'' Thompson frowned, then chuckled. ''Hell, you didn't tell them, did you? I really should've expected that.'' He continued to laugh, making Ryan's fists clench. Wasn't it bad enough that the guy was going to mar his second chance, his clean slate and fresh start? Did he have to fucking **enjoy** it?

''Just get it over with.'' He muttered, draining the last of his coffee. It burned down his throat, warming him past the chill of fear. The Cohens could defend him all the live-long day, but this was a school matter, wasn't it? And Doctor Kim was already against him………. He didn't have a lot of hope for his chances.

''Son.'' The balding man shook his head, tone serious despite the obvious continuation of his amusement. ''Last night, you _walked out _rather than break the rules. Do you know how long I've **waited** to have a player stand up for his principles?'' Wait. He wasn't in trouble? The man was **glad** that he'd been defied? ''You missed one** hell** of a speech from the team captain.'' Luke had stood up, too? Shit, things just kept getting weirder and weirder. ''You come back as striker, and the two of you could take us all the way to _**state**_.'' Coach Thompson sighed, gaze lost in his aspirations for future glory.

''So, he's still on the team, then.'' Trust the lawyer in the family to want to nail down the facts, to be sure of where everyone stood. ''No repercussions or acts of retribution.'' He just barely stopped himself from snorting sarcastically. The jocks would pass on the chance to 'teach him his place': right.

And monkeys would fly out his ass.

''If he _wants_ to come back, he can.'' The Coach looked a little uncomfortable. He was probably **very** aware of the things his players got up to, and just as aware of how little he could do about it. ''We'll be doing the initiations for new team members at the carnival tonight, so let me know.'' That sounded ominous. He blanked on the guy's parting words, the things Sandy said in return; trying to think of what the new initiation could entail.

Nothing good (meaning anything lacking in utter humiliation) was coming to mind.

Not that those thoughts distracted him in the slightest from the two high points of his morning.

Seth, with his eyes full of fulfilled expectations; crowing about how he 'knew all along' that his 'brother' was 'someone special' all the way to school was annoyingly great.

But not as great as Sandy's quiet 'so proud of you' as he dropped the boys off.

Things were actually looking up. The jocks didn't jump him, or even glare; although that restraint may have been due to Luke's presence. None of them were willing to say what the new initiation would be; making him wonder if he seriously wanted to risk whatever it was to be on the team. Watching the way they backed off of Seth because the guy was **his** friend, though………. That was worth a little embarrassment, wasn't it?

''Oh, shit.'' Chip Sanders swallowed nervously, one of the other boys backed up a step. Turning around, he saw Summer and Taylor headed their way; Zach trying to keep up. It was actually funny; watching the taller boy struggle to match pace with the two petite beauties, both in heels.

The blank look on his girl's face, though; negated any amusement he was feeling at the spectacle. Even when he noticed that everyone (even Seth) had left a huge area of empty space all around him, obviously avoiding the two girls and their potential wrath; he still could barely manage a smile. She came to a stop in front of him, hands on hips, looking fantastic (as always) in her pleated skirt and dressy blouse. Her hazel eyes caught his gaze, holding his attention, blinding him to anything or anyone else.

''Ryan.'' Her voice reached out and touched him, relaxing him with it's gentle music. She wasn't mad anymore, he could tell that much. The smug expression on the guy behind her slipped a little, sensing that this might be a reconciliation rather than another argument. ''Did you mean what was in that note? Every word?'' He knew what she was asking: had he meant what was in the **sonnet**? He considered, running back over the lines he'd memorized (Trey had teased him for _**months**_) for last year's English class.

''Yeah. Tay, I…….'' He didn't get a chance to finish apologizing for yesterday's fight, or to explain what he hoped she'd understood from the message.

Her lips were silk and fire, her body sweet torture against him. Putting his arms around her waist was natural, as natural as breathing. Her fingers in his hair sent jolts of electricity through him, opening his mouth in a soft moan, admitting the exploration of her tongue. He slid one hand upwards to cup the back of her head, his palm a firm pressure in the small of her back. Just as he was about to leave the nectar of her kiss to trail affection down her jaw, someone (a throat-clearing, adult-sounding someone) tapped his shoulder sharply.

Ryan looked up into the stern eyes of the last person on Earth he ever wanted to be caught in a heady clinch with his girlfriend by.

''Doctor Kim!'' Taylor gasped, her face flushing pink before she buried it in her hands. ''_Oh Mon Dieu. Je suis si embarrassed, je pourrais juste mourir. Pouquoi isn'; t la jamais un tremblement de terre quand vous avez besoin vraiment d'un?_'' She must really be upset, he thought. She only lapses into French (I think that's French) when she's **really** upset.

''This isn't……'' He looked at the girl he was still somewhat embracing, dropping his arms from around her quickly. ''I mean, it **is**; but…..'' Titters made his cheeks a match for those of the still-muttering girl with her face in her palms. ''Uhm……I'm sorry?'' More laughter, some of which made its way into the edges of the still expression facing him.

''Mister Atwood.'' The bell rang, scattering the crowd to feed this latest fodder into the rumor mill. By the time it came back around, he'd bet the story would involve a **lot** more than kissing. The Dean of Students lifted her eyebrows at the two blushing students, her lips curving slightly. ''Miss Townsend.'' She walked between the two, inclining her head towards the nearest building. ''Don't be late to class.'' That appeared to be her final word on the subject, he nearly went limp with relief at not being hauled to her office to await the abject humiliation of Sandy's (or even worse, _Kirsten's_) arrival.

''See you at lunch.'' Tay didn't look at him as she mumbled her escape, directing her eyes towards her shoes as she hurried away. Summer fell into step with her friend, waving at him with a smirk of satisfaction. He would've followed, but he was too busy watching the auburn curls bounce along her shoulders, the way the fabric settled over……

''Dude.'' Seth tugged at his arm, drawing his attention away from the fantastic ass making its way across the quad and towards homeroom. ''If you can get a kiss like **that** from just a note; we're gonna have to start keeping a fire extinguisher handy for when you actually **talk** to her.''

''It's Shakespeare.'' The blonde boy licked his lips, savoring the lingering taste of _**her**_. He fought for control of his body, feeling the warmth of his blood, pounding through his veins. The breath he drew to calm himself was shaky but, as the air was free of _**her**_ tempting aroma; he felt a fraction better for the lungful. ''Shakespeare's good.''

''If you're looking for a line.'' The Stephens boy scowled down at them both, his face harsh in its disdain and contempt. He made no effort to hide his obvious dissatisfaction with the morning's events, making Ryan feel even better about making up with Taylor. ''I'm onto your game, you know; even if she's not.'' He felt a feral grin tug his mouth upwards, his blue eyes glinting as the perfect words came flowing out from between his teeth.

''So I should tell her you think she's too stupid to see through a lie?'' The other boy cursed, pushing past him with what would've been a hard shove, if he'd stayed in place to receive it. ''Guess not.'' Seth clapped him on the shoulder, the overjoyed look on his face promising an intense Seth/Ryan session, when they got home.

''That guy's an asshole.'' Luke was still glaring after Zach, keeping easy step with him on their way to one of their many shared classes. As the only two of their group not in AP courses, it seemed only natural they become closer friends; despite their past animosity. ''I could punch him for you, if you want.'' He shook his head at the guy as they took their seats, getting a resigned shrug in return. ''Just a suggestion.''

''Thanks.'' It was actually a nice gesture, impractical as it was. A sudden thought made him smile, his eyes dancing with mirth as he considered the image his mind had conjured. Too good an image not to share. ''But I think we should leave the punching to Taylor.'' There were snickers, other people glanced his way in surprised amusement.

''Or to Summer'' That did it. Luke's remark opened the floodgates for the room to crack up, laughing over the image of either of the two little dynamos pounding the stuffing out of Zach Stephens.

It took the homeroom teacher five whole minutes to restore even a semblance of order.

--xxx—

**A/N: **Again, this is per Babelfish, so any mistakes are due to them.

_Oh mon Dieu. Je suis si embarrassed, je pourrais juste mourir. Pouquoi isn';t la jamais un tremblement de terre quand vous avez besoin vraiment d'un? _– French for: Ohmy God. I am so embarrassed, I just want to die. Why isn't there ever an earthquake when you really need one?


	13. Thirteen

**A/N: **By order of Miss Townsend (the younger), despite this being 'unlucky' number thirteen; nothing bad is allowed to happen this chapter.

Hey, would **you** want to argue with her?

Kudos for Waltzy's help w/one scene, and shout-out to book for another scene idea, and a nod to Az (our token guy) for his help as a sounding board.

--xxx—

Taylor eyed the green-painted metal, gripping the mallet firmly in one hand. A rounded, brown gopher-like plastic creature popped up and she slammed the rubber down onto its head, making the lights on the game go off and tickets ratchet out of the dispenser. Envisioning her unwanted suitor, Zach Stephens, as the next target, she slammed the mallet down again; smiling darkly when the lights and noise rewarded her violence.

She totally owned the Whack-A-Mole.

Kick-off Carnival had started out wonderfully. Ryan and her other friends had met her at the gate, her boyfriend making a quick exit, saying he'd be ten, twenty minutes, tops; and then they could all hang out together. **She** was the one who suggested he rejoin the soccer team, so she supposed she really couldn't complain that he had to delay their date (even doubled, the word still thrilled her) to be initiated into it. As the wait approached fifteen minutes, though; she'd started looking around for something to distract her from her thoughts. What if he failed? What if he was too embarrassed by whatever the initiation was to show his face afterwards? What if he was hurt? What if the Coach had **lied**, and it wasn't any more legal than random tp decoration of someone's home? The way Seth had seemed to be depressed about spending time with his girlfriend (who had also looked a bit down) appeared to be a _perfect_ chance for her to reassure the boy (just like his girl had reassured her, after her fight with Ryan, the day before).

Unfortunately, it had turned out that Summer had decided to put her life on hold out of some weird idea of friendship and fair play. It wasn't when she pointed out that the two brunettes being happy would make her and Ryan feel better about their own situation that the fight had started. It was the suggestion that the other girl was being hesitant about continuing the relationship out of** fear** that the screaming had begun. She hadn't** meant** that her friend was scared of the rumor mill, or not being popular anymore; she'd just meant that being in a relationship was a _**scary thing**_, in and of itself. She hadn't been given the chance to explain** that**, though; and was left standing there, all alone, while Seth (with an apologetic glance backwards) had chased after the girl of his dreams.

The delay ticked past thirty minutes, and she'd desperately shoved quarters into the first game that would take her mind off how massively she'd screwed things up. Her first friends, _**ever**_; and she'd managed to scare them off in just under a month. Her mother was right: she was a monster. She raised her weapon for another satisfying impact, bringing it down so hard she felt the jolt all the way up to her elbow. The machine started making weird noises, the plastic denizens of its fake meadow bobbing up and down too quickly for even her to hit. A large hand dropped onto her shoulder and she swung instinctively, forgetting she had what basically amounted to a small sledgehammer in her hand.

"Tayl……Uhnf!''

''Oh my God!'' Her cry of dismay came the same moment he hunched over, rubbing his stomach, where her inadvertent blow had landed. Blue eyes regarded her warily as she dropped the mallet and reached for the blonde boy. ''Luke! Are you okay? I didn't know it was you! I'm so sorry! Do you need a nurse?'' She glanced around frantically to try and spot the red cross signs that indicated the stations where people went for ailments common to this type of gathering. Food poisoning, motion sickness, midway game mishap………

''Yeah, I'm good.'' The team captain straightened up, taking an experimental deep breath. When he didn't hiss or flinch, he took another; smiling at her in a friendly manner, reminiscent of the way Ryan sometimes looked at Seth. Like he was torn between affection and running far, far away in an effort to preserve what was left of his sanity. ''Taken worse on the soccer field.''

''Oh, thank God.'' Taylor reddened. "I mean; that you're not **hurt**, not that you…..'' She blew a frustrated breath, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. ''You know what? Never mind.'' She was a _**freak**_, she drove people away; why should she try and fight it anymore? It was now forty minutes in, and she still hadn't seen her boyfriend. What could be taking so long? Was it really the _initiation_ that was delaying him, or had he run afoul of Zach? Or, even worse, was he rethinking being with someone so ……insane?

_**No**_. She discarded the last idea, remembering the warmth of his breath on her ear when he called her 'crazy' at Cotillion; the husky nature of his voice as he insisted that he _**liked**_ her. His eyes piercing her soul at Caleb's party, the way he'd clung to her during their first kiss………. No, he was just** late**; that was all. She refocused on the teen in front of her, noticing belatedly that his mouth was moving.

Ooops.

''…..okay?'' She blinked guiltily up at the boy she'd just assaulted, not having **any** idea what he was asking her to agree to. ''Taylor?'' She shook her head, turning back to the machine to retrieve her tickets before the man closing it down (those final lights had apparently signified 'tilt', whatever** that** meant) could take them. '**'Damn**, Townsend.'' Luke sounded impressed, not impatient; so that probably meant that Ryan was okay. He'd be a little more anxious, wouldn't he, if his friend was hurt?

''Is Ryan all right?'' She busied herself with folding the tickets up into rows of five, absently counting as she went. It helped keep her voice steady as she asked the question, wanting and not wanting the answer so badly she couldn't bear to look him in the eyes.

''Yeah, he's just having some trouble with the initiation.'' Luke sounded so amused she gave him a sharp look; letting him know he was still on probation for the head-injury thing. The boy sighed, indication the direction he'd approached from. ''It's easier to show you.''

Pausing briefly to turn in her tickets and pick out a gift for Summer (to be delivered, and hopefully accepted, along with her apology), she trailed the former bully through the crowd. He said something and she stepped up her pace, tugging on his arm so he'd slow down a little. People would step aside for the captain of the soccer and water polo teams; but they didn't even appear to **see **the head of the drama club or captain (affirmed yesterday) of the debate team. He gave her an odd look, the same one he'd been giving her since she kissed (and made up with) Ryan, earlier that day. She really hoped he wasn't trying to figure out what her guy saw in her. One water-sport aficionado lusting after her was more than enough, thank you very much.

''What?'' Taylor finally asked, wanting to get the matter settled before things became uncomfortable. She had **more** than enough to think about, she didn't need **Luke** to start acting strange; well, stranger than he already was, compared to his previous behavior. Seth was right. 'New Luke' may be a better person, but it still took some getting used to.

''I'm just wondering about the note.'' She smiled, mostly to herself; remembering the sweet rush of reading it and knowing no one else got the **full** meaning. It'd been fun, teasing Summer with it, finally breaking down and telling her the whole message during afternoon break. ''See, that's what I mean.'' He seemed to be indicating her expression, and she looked at him expectantly. ''I get the Cinderella thing: from Cotillion, right?'' She just kept her face serene, neither confirming nor denying his supposition. This was **fun**, she totally had to tease him a little, get him back for all the times he'd joined in on the laughter at her expense. ''And I figure that Sleeping Beauty is from the mild coma he was in.'' He blushed a bit, referring even in that round-about way to another boy as a 'beauty'. She decided that, since he'd never initiated the laughter, or laughed very long; that she'd let him off the hook when he was done with his guessing. He **was**, after all, trying to reform. ''What I** don't** get is what Shakespeare has to do with the number twenty-nine?''

''It's a sonnet.'' She slowed, seeing the clamoring crowd gathering at what she supposed was their destination; Coach Thompson's balding head clearly visible from behind the booth's counter. Luke's face was still clueless and she sighed, stopping completely to pat him soothingly on the arm. ''Shakespeare wrote poems, called sonnets; and they're arranged by number.'' She spotted Seth and Summer in line and frowned, trying to see what was going on.

''Come on.'' Having solved the mystery of what had spurred her to make up with his teammate, the boy pulled her off to the side of the booth, where the rest of the soccer team was assembled, giving her an unobstructed view.

Ryan sat on a bench, beach shorts and wife-beater bone dry as he dangled his bare feet in the crystal-clear water of the dunk tank. The splash shield was no barrier to a very good view of his physique, making her brace one hand on her friend's broad chest for balance as her mouth went dry and her head spun wildly. Other girls (_must kill_) were looking, openly ogling (_gouge out their eyes_) him; some even attempting to pitch the softballs with sufficient force to drop him into the water. Most of the shots from the female students (_get the mole-mallet, play whack-a-bimbo_) were missing by a mile, and a great many of the ones from the **male** students fell short or bounced off the splash screen. The look on her guy's face was stormy, he glanced to the side, and one of the other new members of the team held up his watch, indicating the time passed. The boy in the dunk tank crossed his arms across his chest in obvious irritation, making several of the girls (_push them off the pier_) in the crowd giggle and sigh.

He was so _**hot**_ when he was brooding, or angry, or, just; when_**ever**_. She licked her lips, dropping her hand from his friend's chest when the unconscious clenching of her fingers made him hiss in pain.

Luke couldn't take a turn, she knew, any more than the other members of the team. This was an **initiation**, not an attempt to flare player-rivalry into team flaws that would cost them games. She was shoved aside by the team captain, a ball careening through the air where her head had just been. Everyone stared in shock at Seth, arm still extended from his abysmal throw. Wordlessly, he handed the other two missiles he'd purchased to Summer; who had better luck in not endangering the crowd, but **not** in achieving the goal of the game. Seeing the dark-blonde head three or four people back, Taylor decided that it was time to put a stop to this.

''Hold this.'' She shoved her purse and the prize she'd purchased into Luke's hands, striding over to the front of the line. Jess Sanders opened her mouth to protest, dark muttering came from the rest of the people waiting.

''Back of the line, Miss.'' The Coach informed her politely, looking apologetic as he pointed to a spot several feet behind the danger smiling at her with an utter lack of charm.

''But I have special dispensation.'' She slapped the five down on the counter, staring the older man down with the confidence she enjoyed with everyone but her mother. ''I'm his girlfriend.''

''Special dispensation it is.'' The man cheerfully handed her the paid-for ammunition, smiling at the crowd warningly. Protests quieted, complaints lowered to a murmur.

**His** eyes were wide behind the shield, mouthing her name and shaking his head as she rolled the ball between her palms. First shot hit the edge of the target, making the bench tilt and the noise from the crowd briefly rise. She locked gazes with him, smiling, planting a kiss on the second ball. Ryan instantly stopped shaking his head, becoming very still as she wound up and let fly.

Certain as he might have been about her ability to release him from the tank, he **still** looked surprised as he was suddenly immersed in what had to be very cold water. Taylor clapped her hands, jumping up and down in relief and excitement. **Now** they could get on with their date! People were laughing as he surfaced, accepting the aid of his fellow initiates to climb shiveringly out. It was good-natured laughter, not what would have occurred if Zach (who was abandoning his place in line) had been the one to sink him. The white cotton clung to his chest, nearly transparent; making her head swim in the struggle to keep from offering to warm him up in the best way possible. Seeing him ducking into a tent, probably to get dressed (ignoring the impulse to help dry him off); she went back over to where Luke had been joined by Seth and Summer.

''Nice one, Townsend.'' Luke handed her stuff back to her quickly, looking relieved to get rid of it.

''Sorry, Tay.'' Summer hugged her, she hugged just as enthusiastically back. ''Sometimes I relapse into bitch mode.''

''Me too.'' She squeezed, glad they were making up. It made her gift a lot easier to give. ''I'm sorry too; and I was so mean…….'' She held out the stuffed animal she'd picked out, hoping it wouldn't be offensive. ''So I got you something.''

''A squirrel?'' The brunette took the plush toy in hand, tilting its head up so she could look into its plastic eyes. Holding its fabric walnut, the creature's expression seemed mischevious and daring. ''You won me a squirrel.''

''So you can always remember the girl that ignored what everyone **else** thought and just did the right thing.'' Little Summer had taken a lot of teasing in grade school over feeding that tiny squirrel. Only her glasses and Seth's weirdness had garnered more criticism than that continuous act of compassionate mercy.

''Oh, you two.'' This time, the hug was shared with Seth (who looked ecstatic **and** uncomfortable), the stuffed animal pressed into the boy's back. ''You guys are awesome.'' She giggled, glad her peace offering had been accepted. Now they could have **fun**, she thought.

''Hands off my girl, Roberts.'' Ryan quipped, shrugging into an over-shirt as he came towards them. His hair was still damp from the dunking, he must've scrambled into his dry clothes in record time. The thought made her blush, she swallowed hard; resisting the urge to push him back into the tent and ………. She closed her eyes, reminded why she tried not to **think** about things like that.

It made the room spin.

''Chino.''

''Hey, bro; nice plume on the splash. I'd say: six-point-five? Maybe even a seven?''

''Atwood; nice going.''

''Ryan.'' Hers was the only greeting he responded to, taking her hand so she'd open her eyes back up and look at him. He raised her fingers to his mouth, making her heart pound madly in her desperately heaving chest. She couldn't look away from the magnetic blue of his gaze, trapped in the swirl of emotions connecting them.

''My hero.'' He said it with one of his teasing little smirks, she snatched her hand away from his maddening lips and smacked him lightly on the shoulder, giggling.

And the mood was shattered by the unwelcome voice behind her.

''Hey, Taylor; you look stunning.'' She rolled her hazel eyes at the compliment, even though she'd been giddy to hear the same sentiment from the shorter boy. Nice jeans, a wine-colored blouse with slightly-flared sleeves, burgundy sandals: her hair in a amethyst clasp at the base of her neck; all for _**Ryan**_, not for **him**.

''Motor, Asshat.'' Well, no one could accuse the girl of not making things clear, Taylor thought wryly. ''No one wants you here.'' That was true enough, but with her mother pressuring her……..

''I'd like to hear that from Taylor; unless you're trying to do her talking for her as well as her thinking.'' There was a gasp from someone, probably Seth; and only the quick snatching grab Ryan made of the brunette girl's wrist kept her from launching herself at the boy.

''Tay only puts up with you to avoid pissing her mother off.'' He growled, pulling his brother's girlfriend gently back until she was once more standing among them, instead of straining towards Zach with her fingers curled into claws.

''That's one interpretation.'' God, she just wanted to **smack** that look off his face. Did he really expect this to work? Maybe he wasn't this stupid, maybe he had just been told to** push** things by Veronica. She saw the way his eyes traveled over her and suddenly wished she'd worn a jacket. And a coverall. And a space suit.

She wasn't the only one who noticed the look, either.

**This** time, it was Ryan who was held back from lunging forward; Seth's scrawny arms less effective than what he was likely whispering in his brother's ear.

It appeared that, yes; the Stephens boy really **was **that stupid.

''Okay, that's enough.'' Luke clapped his hands together, stepping between the two potential combatants. ''Look; why don't we settle this thing with a contest?'' Everyone looked at him like he was crazy and from **her**, that look took a lot to earn. ''Hear me out. Since you won't believe Taylor isn't interested……'' The boy shook his head at such moronic obstinance. ''…….and Ryan can't pummel you as you deserve……'' Her boyfriend cracked his knuckles pointedly, the sound making her shiver with nervous dread. ''…….that leaves a contest.'' It what?!

''I am not a prize _**monkey**_!'' Taylor protested, stamping one foot and waving her arm toward a nearby booth, stocked with sock-monkeys. Only a **jock** would come up with this idea and think it was good, she fumed.

''No, wait; I think I see where he's going with this.'' Seth spoke up, dodging his girlfriend's fists as he entered into the discussion. He took a stance between Luke and Ryan; _obviously_ using the two more muscular boys as shields from Summer and Zach. ''It's not a 'who gets to date her' thing; it's a 'who has to back off' thing.''

''Right.'' The team captain crossed his arms over his chest, glancing from Zach (with impatient disdain) to Ryan (with pleading for trust). ''We pick a game, Taylor picks which prize is better…..''

''…….and the loser has to back off the romance.'' Summer finished smugly, crossing her arms over her chest as well. The girl stared at her boyfriend's brother with blatant confidence, smiling in collusion with his eager expression.

An expression that the other girl was too far away to see had eyes that glittered with dark anticipation. She laid a concerned hand on his arm, worried about how far the idiot trying to woo her was going to push this. If she hadn't been standing right in front of him, she would've chalked up the glimpse of his (as Seth put it) 'Chinoness' to a trick of the light. As it was, she felt a sick twist to her stomach at the thought that he might be goaded into reverting to the person he'd had to become to survive his upbringing. That person was still someone she cared about, but not someone who would ever be happy.

And the consequences of returning to that state of mind might just make it impossible for him to come back.

Not a good.

''I think we should get an objective judge.'' Zach was saying, crossing his arms over his chest; making her feel like she was in the middle of a triangular Mexican stand-off. ''Otherwise, she'll just choose him to make me jealous.'' Every calm thought flew out of her head as she whirled on him, words pouring out of her mouth rapid-fire; advancing with her arms waving wildly over her head.

''_ You'; au sujet d'un buffoon insupportable_ !_ I'; le ve n'a jamais recontre n'importe qui who'; s un debile si total_ ''

''Tay…..'' There were arms wrapped around her waist; strong arms that made her feel safe and secure. She continued to harangue the taller boy (hands on those arms because they were between her palms and her hips); her patience with his antics **finally** spent.

''_ Serieusement, il y a des babouins qualifies qui font faire plus de sens que vous_! _Vou etes le plus content de soi, arrogant, desagreable, imbecile sur le visage de la planete_!''

''Tay……'' Someone was standing next to Summer, but she was too blinded by her rage to see who it was.

'' _I wouldn'; date de t vous si vous etiez le dernier male en existence_ !_ I'; d soit dispose a tourner la lesbienne, s'il signifiait, I'; d jamais doivent ne vous revoir_ !'' A hand covered her mouth, silencing the torrent of French.

''Tay, this is Desiree.'' The voice that she would hear for the rest of her life anchored her back to her native tongue, introducing the startled looking platinum blonde standing next to her friends. ''Desiree has agreed to judge the contest for us.'' The other girl nodded, smile wavering in the force of her hazel ire. Taylor blinked, releasing her anger with a deep, steadying breath. She recognized the girl from AP courses, from drama club. Not a friend, but not a tormentor, either. Good. The moron wouldn't be able to cry 'foul' if things didn't go his way.

''Let's get this farce over with.'' She snapped, adjusting the strap of her purse and smoothing her blouse with shaking hands. There are better ways to dishevel one's clothing, she thought to herself.

The group headed for the midway, Desiree leading them towards the game booths. Taylor choose to walk with Summer, still trying to control her anger. Zach was acting as if he'd already won, sending her smug little grins that kept her annoyance simmering like a pot on permanent 'boil'. When she saw the game that had been chosen, though; all thoughts of the irritating water-polo player vanished from her mind. The pinched, set look to Ryan's face, the shadows in his eyes………

''I don't think ……….'' She tried to protest, looking from her boyfriend to the jerk who didn't know when to quit.

''It's not like we're pointing them at **each other**.'' Zach was condescending in tone and manner as he stepped forward and picked up one of the BB rifles, smiling as he sighted down the barrel. ''Shooting some little plastic ducks won't hurt anyone.''

''This is the only booth with jewelry as prizes.'' Desiree explained, confusion heavy in her green eyes as she glanced around the group. ''Everything else is stuffed animals or candy.''

''It's just……'' She didn't want him anywhere **near** guns; any **kind** of gun. It wasn't that she didn't **trust** him (_**him**_, if no one else, she trusted absolutely), she just didn't want him to have to deal with the memories and emotions such items would undoubtedly dredge up.

''It's okay.'' He was tense, but his hands were steady as he picked up the other rifle; his face calm as he nodded to the booth's operator. Good as his control was, she could see the cracks in it. Taylor bit her lip to keep from voicing any more protests, recognizing that her attempts to protect him would only make this harder for him to get through.

''If anyone should be complaining, it's me.'' She was hit by the urge, once again, to smack the boy; resisted it only because she felt that, if she started, she'd never be able to stop. ''Of course, the last time you held one of these; it was probably loaded with cop-killers.'' Ryan visibly flinched, but it was too late to change their minds now. The money was on the counter and the operator was going through his patter.

It was horrible.

The tension hovering around the group (and her screaming in French, she thought guiltily) had gathered a crowd, one made up of people who apparently had her mother's complete lack of tact. They made snottily audible comments about how nervous they were, with the 'kid from Chino' being 'armed again'. Guys made guesses about how many people he'd 'wacked', girls squealed and pleaded for their boyfriends to protect them from the 'dangerous felon'. And that wasn't even taking into account the speculations about whether or not he'd been in a gang; or if they'd seen him on an episode of _Cops_. Not even the darkest glare from Summer or the chattering nonsense of Seth could keep the audience silent as the two boys plinked away at the targets. That sick sensation was back in her stomach as a felt box was set in front of Zach.

And a plastic egg placed before Ryan.

The taller boy confidently flipped open the box, displaying the silver pair of French-hook earrings with unicorns dangling from them. She frowned, distracted from expressing her distaste for the jewelry (and it's owner) by the soft _pop_ of the egg being opened. White plastic spilled into his shaking palm, the crowd snickering at the sight of the (obviously too small for **her**) necklace of white beads. Tears she refused to let fall pricked behind her eyes, clenching her throat shut. It didn't even have a clasp, the ends tied off in a complicated (and cheap-looking) knot.

''Well, that's……'' Before the blonde girl could render her judgment, Ryan stepped forward, folding the necklace in half and sliding it over her left hand to hang snugly around her wrist.

''Ryan……'' Making it a bracelet wouldn't make it any prettier, his loss any more blatant. They'd agreed to this, knowing that there might be a trick to it. Being who they were, they were obligated to uphold their end of things.

No matter how much it hurt.

''It's a meditation bracelet.'' He interrupted, not looking at her as he traced one plastic bead with a gentle finger. ''We can paint a symbol for strength, or courage…….'' His eyes were bleak as he finally raised his head to meet her gaze. Taylor laid her right palm on his cheek, wishing she hadn't held back from ramming her foot up the Stephens boy's ass. Maybe if she **had**, she wouldn't be caught up in this idiot contest. This deal is even worse than the **other** one, she thought despairingly.

''He wins.'' Closing her eyes, she waited for her boyfriend to release her to the vile touch of the other boy.

''You're _**kidding**_.'' Hearing the hated voice, still feeling the lovely heat of _**his **_skin under her palm, around her fingers; she snapped her eyes open to see the manicured nail (passion-red, like Summer's) pointing towards the victor.

Pointing towards _**Ryan**_.

''How can** he** be the winner? That thing's a piece of **junk**.'' She couldn't spot who in the crowd had asked, her head spinning with giddy relief.

''He _**knows**_ her.'' Desiree smiled, giving the gape-mouthed losing party a sharp look. ''**You** didn't even know she was into that Oriental stuff, did you?'' The blank look on his face was answer enough, his eyes darting around the crowd as if his assumed victory was hiding among them. ''Right. And **you** don't like unicorns, do you?'' That was addressed to her; she shook her head, too caught up in the delight of their unexpected triumph to speak.

''Tay's allergic to horses.'' Summer blurted out, obviously feeling the need to explain the weirdness (to most teenage girls) of her preferences.

''I…..I just……….''

''You're not gonna **welsch**, are you, Stephens?'' Now the crowd was muttering about **him**; she had the satisfaction of seeing him swallow nervously as he shook his head in answer to Luke's question.

''Make yourself scarce, then.'' Seth was smug, one arm around his girlfriend as he examined his fingernails; apparently confident in his safety with at least five people between him and the jock he was taunting. ''Go on.'' He flicked the fingers towards the distant rides, making the crowd snicker again. It didn't sound as nasty, when it wasn't directed at her or her friends. ''Be off with you.'' That the water-polo player wanted to pound the other boy was obvious; that he didn't dare make a move with the other four members of their group around was just as blatant. He turned and thrust his way through the crowd, tossing the box towards one of the trashcans.

''Thanks.'' He whispered it, but the heartfelt word carried in the small circle of silence they were standing in.

''Only the truth.'' Desiree shrugged, looking around at the dispersing students; their interest shifting now that the drama was over. ''I wonder if there's any fried Snickers left?''

''Let's find out.'' Luke offered, holding his arm out for her to take. ''My treat.''

''Come on, Cohen.'' Summer tugged at her boyfriend's hand, kissing his cheek fondly; making the boy's grin threaten to split his face wide open. Looked like her friend had changed her mind about freezing the boy out. Good for her. ''Buy me a snack. All this fuss has got me starving.''

''**That **was unpleasant.'' She tucked herself under Ryan's arm, not wanting to leave the comfort of his embrace. He snorted in agreement, dropping a kiss onto the top of her head as they followed their friends.

''I dunno.'' Taylor felt the smile against her hair, warmed by the way he deeply inhaled the smell of her shampoo before straightening upright. ''I kinda liked the way you went off on him.''

''If he doesn't stick to losing the contest, he's gonna get a lot more than French.'' He laughed (with delight, not derision), squeezing her to him with the affectionate arm around her shoulders.

''Something to look forward to.''

--xxx—

**A/N 2: **French, once more, from Babelfish.

_You'; au sujet d'un buffoon insupportable! _You're an insufferable buffoon!

_I'; le ve n'a jamais recontre n'importe qui who'; s un debile si total! _I've never met anyone who's such an utter moron!

_Serieusement, il y a des babouins qualifies qui font faire plus de sens que vous! _Seriously, there are trained baboons who have more sense than you do!

_Vou etes le plus content de soi, arrogant, desagreable, imbecile sur le visage de la planete! _You are the most self-satisfied, arrogant, obnoxious imbecile on the face of the planet!

_I wouldn'; date de t vous si vous etiez le dernier male en existence! _I wouldn't date you if you were the last male in existence!

_I'; d soit dispose a tourner la lesbienne, s'il signifiait, I'; d jamais doivent ne vous revoir! _I'd be willing to turn lesbian, if it meant I'd never have to see you again!


	14. Fourteen

**A/N: **Kind of another adult intermission to close it out with.

--xxx—

Something was up.

Sandy Cohen didn't have the reputation (or the record) in the courtroom that he did by not being able to see what was right in front of his face.

The problem was, something was up with **Ryan**, and **something** was up with Cal.

It wasn't the_ same_ something. The two had barely traded glances all night, their body language and attention focused elsewhere. In fact, if it wasn't for his natural-born son's chattering about his upcoming sixteenth birthday, dinner would've been eaten in complete silence. Aside from the offer of his yacht as a party site, the old man didn't have anything to say; and the only words that the blonde boy spoke all night (after making sure Luke's inclusion was acceptable) were mono-syllabic responses to his brother. No, the something that Cal was dealing with had to do with Kirsten. From the why her father would glance towards her and away, **that** much was obvious, as was the way to get more information. All he had to do, there; was confront his father-in-law about it, and he'd have (if not the full story) at least the shape of the problem. He just hoped it wasn't another surprise about the company or his health. He didn't think his wife would appreciate any more lunches like the last one.

With Ryan, the problem seemed to involve Luke. Rather, it seemed to be a problem **Luke** was having, that **Ryan **was somehow involved in. Something to do with Marissa? He hoped not. With the girl having moved into her father's new apartment at the start of the school year, he'd been enjoying the absence of her melodramatics. It couldn't be anything to do with Taylor, or her mother, or the recently subdued Zach Stephens. Seth would've given them the heads-up on that, were it the case; just as he'd regaled them (four times and counting) with the events of the carnival.

Remembering the day he'd come home to find Ryan painting symbols onto a string of white plastic beads with toothpick; open bottles of nail polish (from Kirsten) and open books of Chinese characters (from the library) scattered around him: he had to smile. Seth's explanation had been informative; but his other son's blushing, halting stammer of a story had been more entertaining.

So what was going on?

His shorter son had to drive the Ward boy home, and the tail-end of their conversation that he (barely) managed to overhear only heightened his concern.

''…….for not saying anything about……''

''……..not the first time I saw them……..''

''…….didn't tell me?''

'' ……..thought you knew.''

Could something illegal be going on, down at the car dealership? He would've rejected the idea, Carson having struck him as an honest man (as well as one hell of a golfer); but he'd thought _**Jimmie**_ was an honest (if annoying) man, once upon a time. That Luke was now aware of whatever was going on was a concern, as was the boys' apparent pact of silence. They'd had the same attitude about how the model home fire had started, and that had been one of his hardest legal battles to win, despite Kirsten's dropping the charges. It was only their own internal moral standards that had brought the two teens forward in the first place; it was those same standards that would drive them to come clean (eventually) about whatever was going on.

He just didn't want to think about what might happen in the meantime, or what would happen once things came to light. Even unknowingly, even peripherally; Ryan just couldn't afford to be involved with anything remotely shady.

Caleb could wait, he had to get to the bottom of his son's situation; to be prepared for the possible fallout as well as to provide a sympathetic ear.

--xxx--

''Everything's fine, Seth.''

If it hadn't been delivered in a flat, emotionless monotone; Sandy would've smiled at the words. When had they **ever** asked about the boy's state of mind and not been told he was 'fine'? He entered the kitchen to his taller son's excited babbling, pouring his coffee with a worried glance at the bowed blonde head out of the corner of his eyes.

''……..did you check for pods, like I asked you? In the garage, too?''

''Everything's fine, Seth.''

''What about the den? Any signs of alien influence in the big screen TV?''

''Everything's fine, Seth.''

Sandy bit the inside of his cheek, setting his bagel down until he got control of the urge to laugh. Ryan raised his eyes from his cereal, and the expression nearly set him off. The steady tonelessness of the voice, the way he avoided his bother's gaze……..

Who knew the kid could be funny? .

''How about the computer? Any strange messages coming through? A tendency to start conversations?''

''Everything's fine, Seth.''

''Dude, you said that. You **keep** saying ………'' The exasperation dropped out of his son's voice, replaced by irritated amusement as Seth (finally, he must not have had his coffee yet) figured it out. ''Oh, _very_ funny.'' His chuckle drew the taller boy's attention, making the (only mildly) offended scowl deepen. ''Et tu, father? This is a violation of established family roles, you know. **I'm** supposed to be the funny one.''

''You are, Son, you are. Right now? You're hilarious.''

The rare laughter; the brilliant smile lighting the other teen's usually stoic face: he couldn't bring himself to ruin such a moment with an interrogation over the Ward matter.

--xxx—

Thank God he hadn't started looking into the Ward matter.

That was his primary thought, as the rumors about Carson and his partner (in more than one sense of the word, apparently) made the rounds of the public defender's office.

Well, the primary thought after the relief had swept through him. Ryan had become too integral to their family to risk losing him now. He'd turned Seth from a sarcastic loner with no friends to an outgoing kid (who was still sarcastic, but that was a Cohen for you) with a 'clique' and a girlfriend. He'd pulled Sandy out of the swirl of problems he faced at work to realize the problems that existed at home. He'd woken Kirsten up to the true nature of those she considered friends; to the point she'd broken off all ties with Jimmie (who refused to admit that Marissa had done anything wrong), something her husband was secretly ecstatic over. Cal's transformation may have been driven by the fear of losing his daughter, but the newest member of the family had provided the catalyst.

Even if he ignored all the good things that had happened since he'd, as Seth was wont to say, 'brought his work home with him' (some as a direct result thereof); he'd still be glad that they weren't going to lose the boy. He was bright, he was funny, he was considerate; he was everything anyone could want in a son, a grandson, a brother or a friend. That, and it would be absolutely criminal (and as a lawyer, he should know) for the kid to lose this chance at a real future. Briefly, he considered the likely effect on Taylor if they had lost Ryan to foster care at this point and shuddered.

Some things, like the birth of a new Veronica Townsend, just didn't bear thinking about.

--xxx—

''………cannot believe you!'' Sandy tilted his head at the sound of his wife's shouting and made his way into the kitchen. Looked like the thing with Cal had blown open without him. He hoped the consequences of his delaying the confrontation with the tycoon weren't going to be too dire.

''Hey, Kirsten.'' He kissed her, glad when she responded a little, even if it was automatically. She can't be that angry, then, he thought; glancing towards the object of her ranting. The older man didn't appear concerned, sipping his tea calmly from his seat at the kitchen table. ''Cal.'' He wouldn't have long to wait to learn what was going on, not with the look on Kirsten's face.

''Do you know what he's done? Do you have any idea?'' Those weren't questions she was expecting an answer to, he didn't even bother to shake his head. Pale green eyes snapping, she pointed a shaking finger at her father. ''He's dating Julie Cooper!'' When he didn't respond, trying to take in the information without thinking of the images that came with it, she stomped her foot. ''Julie Cooper!'' She sounded (and appeared, a bit) for all the world like a little girl protesting that the cake was vanilla instead of chocolate.

What was it about one's parents and their ability to transform you (no matter how old or mature) into a child?

''At least she's closer to his own age than his last girlfriend.'' A chuckle drifted from the table as his wife glared at him. He shrugged, loosening his tie. ''She's divorced, he's a bachelor….'' He knew better than to mention, even by the remote term of 'widower', Rose Nichol. After all these years, the grief was still too sharp to make casual mention bearable. ''…..I don't see what the big deal is, honey.'' Granted, he thought that Julie Cooper was demon-spawn; but if anyone could handle the woman, it was his father-in-law.

And they could always call an exorcist if she got out of hand.

''It's just…..he...she…..I…..'' Kirsten sighed heavily, shaking her head as she let go of her anger. ''Dad, seriously? Julie?'' She sounded like she was finally starting to see the absurdity of the situation.

''She's a lovely woman.'' He snorted, not seeing the attraction. Hell, he'd never sent the attraction. His wife could put her (and every other Newpsie) in the shade, any day; without even half-trying. ''She recognized that her daughter has problems, but she still put up one hell of a fight to keep me from having the girl charged and committed. '' Sandy **had** wondered why a man with such a viciously defensive nature (regarding his family) had let Marissa Cooper off scot-free. Any thoughts that Julie had gone 'that far' to secure the girl's safety were discarded as soon as they occurred. Cal was far too much of a pragmatist to be swayed by bedroom influences. ''It was hard for her to admit, Kiki; but she did eventually see that Jimmie has a better chance of reaching Marissa before the girl ends up unsalvageable.'' Hailey's name was heavy in the air, he decided to break the tension a little.

''Well, dinner should be fun.'' He picked up his briefcase, giving the beauty standing with her arms still stubbornly crossed another kiss on his way to get changed. ''Ryan mentioned something about inviting Luke over, and Seth suggested everyone else, which means Taylor as well as Summer. I hope we're having something that can feed a crowd of teenagers.'' Something to be eaten with a spoon, he thought. Arming the guests with even salad forks was likely a bad idea.

''Pizza.'' Kirsten looked relieved to have something solvable to think about. ''We'll set the boxes in the kitchen and the kids can play video games or watch movies or something.'' Something, her expression said; to keep them away from the adults.

One adult in particular.

Julie Cooper was coming over for dinner.

Maybe he should check **her** closet for a pod.

--xxx—

''I haven't had pizza for ages.''

It was going well.

It certainly didn't hurt that Julie had started the night with an apology for her daughter's behavior. Ryan and Luke had nodded almost in unison, attention obviously elsewhere, probably with their girls. Desiree had seemed nice, but he'd hardly gotten the chance to form an opinion. Summer (learning of Julie's expected presence) had declared a 'girl's night' and the three young ladies had made their escape to Chili's. Her concern about having Taylor and Julie in the same house was blatant, as was Ryan's relief when she made the suggestion. Sandy was just as glad to have **that** particular confrontation set further into the future, himself.

''Seth actually makes an argument for pizza being 'the perfect meal'.'' Kirsten smiled at his words, recognizing the story. He took a bite of his own meal, continuing the anecdote. ''You've got your crust for grains, toppings for meat, sauce for vegetables, and cheese for dairy.'' The four of them laughed, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere; the sound of the boys' video game a nice backdrop to their discussion.

''That's a smart boy you've raised there; Kiki, Sandman.'' Sandy returned his wife's smile, remembering a time when he wouldn't have been included in that statement, when the compliment wouldn't even have been given.

How things changed.

If someone had told him, even a month ago, that he'd be sitting in his living room, eating pizza with Caleb Nichol **and** Julie Cooper; he would've asked if they had a prescription for the medication they were on.

Now, here he was.

The atmosphere was surprisingly comfortable. By unspoken agreement, they kept the conversation light, skirting anything to do with current gossip (Carson) or new relationships (Julie). After all, the only purpose to this dinner was to see if he could get along with the woman (and vice versa); not delve into each other's psyche. So long as she was polite, and kept her mouth shut on her opinions about Ryan; he could treat her with distant civility. He may not be ready to _forgive_ her for her initial attempts to destroy his foster son's second chance with her vapid rumor-mongering; but he could, for Kirsten's sake, learn to tolerate her presence.

''…….made it to **some** of your games.''

Seth's voice, uncommonly quiet and solemn; drew his attention from where he was lifting another few slices to take back into the living room. The boys were obviously talking about Carson's recent revelation, and the consequences for his son.

''Whatever.'' Luke sounded upset. Almost, he stepped forward to offer what comfort he could. ''What does it even matter?'' Ah, kid. He thought miserably, hearing the pain in the voice. It matters.

''It matters.'' For a minute, he thought he'd spoken; the words, the tone, so perfectly matching his own thoughts. ''Especially if you had a father who didn't make it to **any** of your games, or know what sport you played.'' Now his sympathy was for his **own** son: the desperately lonely and miserable boy that had, only recently; learned to that he was deserving of affection. ''Or cared.''** I** care, he wanted to say; wanting to reassure Ryan that here, in their home, he finally had what every child needed.

A loving, supportive family.

Getting caught eavesdropping, however, wouldn't help with that reassurance. Escaping with his slices, he settled back into the living room, giving Kirsten an imperceptible shake of the head in response to her questioning look. Their boys (of whom he couldn't be prouder) were currently helping a friend deal with an emotional crises. Which meant that not only was nothing wrong………

Things were very, very right.


End file.
